The Faith of a Child
by WhisperWeeper
Summary: Roderich and Vash are young and spirited and maybe more than a little in love. Neither care about what this truly means for them, but as the days get longer and the wars they fight get tougher both are forced to face their futures in the worst way possible. Apart. A collection of instances where Aus/Swiss still share a bed, and are, indeed, too close for outside comfort.


_**You've got the will of a wild,**_

_**A wild bird.**_

**.**

It was a warm spring afternoon. There were lakes and meadow as far as the eye could see in every direction, with rolling hills and small grey peaks in the distance. The sky was bright and blue, and shadows of clouds sailed over the sea of water and grass. Wild flowers were blossoming in shades of yellows, purples, and white; making the gentle breeze smell divine.

A day like any other, really. There was no reason for the knot in his stomach, yet it was there all the same.

Roderich felt different.

It had been a gradual change. As borders shifted and solidified, his body was growing and changing in ways he hadn't expected. He was taller now, his legs much longer than they were previously, and his body was filling out into something akin to a young adult. It was happening quickly, and the sudden ability to look down at someone while speaking to them as opposed to craning his head to stare upwards was more than a little jarring.

Especially since he was taller than Vash now.

It had been a rough morning to wake up to find himself stretched out alongside his companion with his feet hanging off the mattress. They had to upgrade to a larger bed, an expense that had pleased neither of them. Well, it pleased his feet.

That was a little over a month ago now, and the pair had both been going through the trials of adjusting to their new selves. Where the brunet found himself sprouting like a lanky sapling these days, Vash was growing much slower. He had a small physique to start with, now nearly a head shorter than Roderich—thanks to his fairly _ludicrous _growth spurt—but he was much more muscular and fit. Which made sense, considering how often he had to don a suit of armor and swing a sword. Roderich was more of a help than he used to be, but they both had their separate battles to fight. Vash's arms were tailored for swinging swords and hammers, while his legs were defined from trekking long distances. There was no doubt about who was the more physically stronger of the two.

None of that was what bothered him. Regardless of height or strength he would always look up to his dear friend, and he knew that the blond understood him. Better than anyone.

_But no._ On this particular day, such a normal spring day like any other, Roderich found himself sick. His eyes ached and his heart pounded, and his mind was stuck replaying that morning over and over.

He'd had a lazy morning, as he was wont to do most days, and Vash had deigned to join him. Roderich was beyond pleased. His capable companion had been ran absolutely ragged the past few weeks, disappearing for days on end to go fight skirmishes with particular Frank margraves, and had returned to their shared home with a limp. Pair that with his other bruises, scrapes, and the dark bags under his eyes, Roderich was delighted that Vash willingly took the time to do something as simple as sleep in.

The two had relaxed in bed nearly until noon. They dozed, nibbled a light breakfast, chatted about nonsensical things, and dozed some more.

It was a comfort they could only indulge in together, no matter where they slept. Right then they were guests at a little country manor owned by one of the counts of Kyburg in the valley of Schwyz. A moderately sized place named the Heathergrove Estate. The count had even provided them servants, which was flattering, a tad alarming, and also _terribly_ inconvenient for their privacy.

Being the one who offered to retrieve their breakfast, Roderich had snuck his way towards the kitchen instead of calling one of the attendants. As he snatched a platter and began to layer it with various cheese slices, bread, and a few fruits, the brunet overheard voices through the other pantry door.

"Are they still sleeping?" asked a light, feminine voice.

"I don't know. Perhaps you should go and check," replied a deeper voice. It sounded like the cook.

"But we're not supposed to disturb them unless called."

"Don't you think that's odd?" another woman asked.

"A little." A pause. "They share a room, you know."

"What? Really?"

"Insisted on it, apparently. Same bed and everything."

"No way . . ."

Another pair of footsteps entered the kitchen and Roderich stayed silent, doing his best to stay unnoticed in the pantry as the third arrival spoke up. He recognized it as the steward and butler, an older gentleman named Thomas that was rather a sour grape.

"Shouldn't you be preparing lunch, Eckhart? Ilse?"

"We would, but the masters are, uh, well—"

There was a _tsk_ that Roderich only knew too well. "Gerlinde, why don't you go air out the drawing room." It wasn't a suggestion, and the maid's quick footsteps were the only correct response.

There was a moment of stiff silence before Thomas continued. "Start preparing lunch. If they're not up by the time it's ready then I'll go wake them. This is getting ridiculous."

"Is it true that the masters, ah, _you know,_ sir?" Ilse asked hesitantly.

Thomas scoffed. "They are juvenile."

Eckhart grunted and offered some tea. Roderich snuck a bottle of milk as he inched towards the opposite door. He slipped out into the hall unbeknownst to his staff and made his way back to the bedroom.

On the way, he ran into the housekeeper. Helene was a woman of silver hair, sharp blue eyes, and who wasn't afraid to stop her lord mid-step during his escape to scold him for pilfering the pantry. Roderich tried to smile his way out of it, but she had him by the sleeve. Helene gave him a stern tongue-lashing as she escorted him back to his room, and ultimately let him go at the door after squeezing in one more reprimand.

"Aren't ye two getting a little old to share a bed?"

Roderich had laughed it off.

Continuing to avoid their respective responsibilities seemed like the reasonable thing to do for the rest of the day. After all, they deserved a day of peace.

Naturally, they went for a picnic.

That's what they were currently doing. Eckhart had been more than happy to prepare a lunch to go for them, seemingly happy to prepare a lunch at all. Vash couldn't walk far due to a well dodged spear wound that grazed his calf—not well-dodged enough, in his opinion, but at least it was only a cut—so they shared a horse and rode out into the surrounding fields.

Resting under the shade of a plum tree, they dallied the day away.

Roderich leaned against the tree. He was reading a few lines of poetry aloud as Vash laid his head in his lap. A bumblebee landed briefly on his boot before drifting away.

_"Winds, they whispered, then hollered loud,_

_"Trees, they waved, and towered proud,_

_"Songs are sung throughout the fields,_

_"By children small with joy they wield,_

_"The arms of youth wrap tighter still,_

_"As they frolicked in the vale—"_

Vash quietly interrupted him. "That doesn't rhyme."

Roderich lifted the pieces of parchment, peeking at the blond. "No?" He glanced back at the lines scrawled before him. "It sounds good to me."

Vash had his eyes closed as he hummed. "It feels a little forced."

"It's supposed to. It's _obliquus."_

"You made that up, didn't you?"

"I did not!" Roderich chuckled as a single green eye peered at him. "It's _'indirect'_ or _'tilted.'_ The words sort of match, but not quite."

"Of all the things to do in your free time you pick _poetria."_

"You don't like it?" Roderich stared harder at his own writing, frowning. Sure, his letters were rough, but he practiced his penmanship every night and thought he was breaking ground. His spelling was getting better and his prose was only slightly disjointed. He stared at his lines with new doubt, rereading all of his mistakes. Maybe it _was_ a little hopeless.

"I like it."

Roderich absolutely beamed. Vash turned his head away from him to watch the return of the bumblebee, the tips of his ears turning pink. The brunet filled with a potent affection that started in his heart and spread throughout his chest, like tea being poured into a cup.

As soon as that warmth touched his stomach, though, it twisted and sunk. His smile froze in place.

A handful of white flowers showered onto them as a breeze whirled across the meadow. Vash extended his hand down the length of Roderich's legs as the bumblebee tumbled by, and the little drifter landed on his palm in refuge.

Roderich swallowed a pebble in his throat.

"Hey."

Vash was staring at him again, with both eyes this time. A dappling of sunlight fell between the blossoms of the plum tree and danced over the smattering of freckles across his cheek. A welcome distraction.

"Hmm?"

"Something's bothering you."

Roderich set the papers to the side, arching an eyebrow at the blond. "What do you mean?

"You've been quiet since breakfast," Vash added.

"Ah." Roderich ducked his head, but that only brought him eye-to-eye with the blond.

_'Aren't ye two getting a little old to share a bed?'_

The knot in his stomach squeezed. "I suppose."

"So what is it?"

"Vash," he started, then stopped. He watched as Vash shooed the bumblebee away and turned his full attention to the brunet.

Roderich began again. "Do you think we're old?"

Green eyes blinked at him, blinked again, and then his friend burst into laughter. Vash's face lit up and Roderich found himself caught up in it, and the knot loosened. Both of their laughter carried over the glen, and the sky tinted pink along with their faces.

"What? Really?" Vash asked after calming down, some more chuckles escaping him as he spoke. "Is that all, _Hasi?"_

Put like that, Roderich felt silly. His cheeks darkened even more. "I don't know. It's just, well, are we?"

Vash reached up and brushed a few blossoms off of Roderich's shoulder, mulling over the question seriously. Roderich was content to watch the shifting colors of the late afternoon sky reflect in golden hair.

"Well," Vash murmured, staring up into the plum canopy. "We _are_ old, technically speaking. Most people can barely make forty while we're reaching through several centuries at this point."

Roderich didn't know whether to feel better or not. The lingering heaviness in his stomach decided for him.

They relaxed in comfortable silence for the rest of the sunset, watching the sun dip below the far off mountains. The two finally packed up for the evening and returned to the manor with a basket full of plums as an apology for being late for supper. Eckhart and Ilse were pleased with the peace offering, even if Thomas still scolded them for their tardiness, threatening that he'd nearly had to send the footman, Kolman, out to hunt them down.

Roderich felt a needle of anxiety thread through the back of his mind as they got ready to sleep, unsure if the new feelings swirling in him were worth fretting over so much. Surely it wasn't such a big deal, sharing a bed. Right? They've done it for years, now, and a tent before that, and a single cloak before that. It was their normal.

He pushed it from his mind.

**...xXx...**

Standing atop a hill, Roderich watched the retreating forces limp back across the muddy battlefield. A certain Frank was spitting and cursing on the back of his horse even as his troops sped off, cradling a wound in his side.

Roderich nocked another arrow. He took aim. The Frank shrieked and turned tail.

Slumping in relief, the brunet returned his arrow to its quiver. His hands were shaking.

_That was close, _Roderich lamented. _He's getting stronger._

If it weren't for the fact that he'd had assistance, then the Frank would have easily overran him. It wasn't just his fight, though, it was the entire Empire being called to bolster the Western border. _Speaking of—_

Violet gaze sweeping over the victorious troops, their cheering a near cacophony, Roderich looked for the one soldier that mattered most.

There were too many bodies, too many helmets. Roderich stood his ground on top of the hill, letting the men rush past him to celebrate down on the moor. They had promised to meet there if they were separated, a sure thing in any battle, and so there he was.

Soon Roderich stood alone on the hill, his heart growing heavier the longer he went without seeing his most important person.

The cheering of men began to calm into a quiet chattering as everyone reorganized themselves. The air that was ringing out with cries and steel upon steel just moments before was now quiet and solemn as they began cataloguing the dead and moving the injured.

The emotions of war were fickle and fleeting.

His adrenaline continued running high, heartbeat loud in his ear, and Roderich shouldered his bow. He walked along the crest of the hill, ignoring the strain in his right knee. The bone wasn't quite right. Could've been worse, being knocked off a horse and all. At least he wasn't impaled.

But he didn't care about himself.

_Where is he?_

Roderich paced back and forth several times, walking around on top of the hill solidly for quite some time. No matter which way he looked, he couldn't spot Vash. A group in the distance waved to him and he waved back, but the brunet stayed put. As the masses moved off the field they gathered stray horses, picked up discarded weapons, and carried one another as they limped back to safety.

_He's alive. He's fine._ These thoughts were unbidden and inevitable. _Perfectly fine. Unharmed. _Definitely _not_ one of those mounds on the ground, never to move again. His heart plunged into ice at the thought and Roderich stopped in his tracks.

Facing towards the sunset, finally, _finally_ a figure appeared at the bottom of the hill.

The armored soldier leaned on his sword, his red tunic caked with filth. Roderich took a step, then another, pain spiking up his leg, and another. The figure lifted his helmet up and off, tossing it into the mud as Roderich tumbled down the hill like a desperate gosling.

Nothing else mattered. _Nothing._ He crashed into the arms of his sun.

They held each other for a long time.

The deluge of dusk dyed the battlefield an even blanket of crimson. Dark clouds were blooming in the north.

Vash leaned on him heavily, letting his sword fall out of his hand. Roderich kissed and kissed him, whispering a prayer to the joy swirling in his heart. Nothing else could be heard over the drumming in their veins.

Vash slumped even more, and Roderich snapped into himself. Pulling back only far enough to look down at the man in his arms, he could see a deeper scarlet staining his abdomen and tunic.

"You're hurt," he croaked.

Vash huffed and looked over him with a grimace. "Are you all right?"

"Me?" Roderich squeaked, eyes wide. _"You've been stabbed!"_

"And you were knocked off a horse."

"You saw that?"

"Yes." The blond glared at his sword as it laid on the grass. "I killed the man who did it."

Roderich shook his head, scoffed, and blinked a bit before words came to him again. He decided to kiss Vash a few more times instead, body thrumming with a song of relief and distress as he held him tight. The other returned the favor.

It took until nightfall to fully gather themselves and begin making their way towards the encampment. Vash's wound wasn't fatal, and Roderich was able to support him on the way back. They slunk through the crowd of soldiers; unnoticed among hundreds of grimy faces and blood covered armor. The two of them avoided the pavilions where the other duchies were bedded and slipped quietly back to their own shared tent to treat their wounds.

As the chaos of the day faded into the timid revelry of the night, the men were either drinking and toasting around campfires or recovering inside the medical tents.

Vash was sound asleep. Roderich sat beside him, leg stretched out and knee wrapped. Usually Vash would be wired awake all night from battle, ready to spring into action at any moment—an unfortunate habit he'd gotten into that had saved their lives on more than one occasion—but Roderich made sure to slip a little something into the tonic he'd given him for pain. He would stay up for a while more.

They'd changed into clean clothes before bedding down, at least, Vash forgoing a shirt for the muggy spring evening. Thunder rolling was a constant in the background of the night, though it had yet to rain. As if the sky was holding its breath.

Roderich stared at his friend's bandaged stomach. The brunet dipped the rag he was holding into a washbowl and continued about cleaning the dried blood off of Vash's fingers. There was a rustle at the front of the tent and the flap opened.

"You two have retired early."

A man stepped in and knelt in front of him. He was lithely built, wearing a fresh green and white tunic with a sword on one hip and a knife on the other. His long flaxen hair was braided away from his face currently, and a youthful face that was perpetually ruined by the priggish smirk on his lips. The corners of his light teal eyes crinkled in the lamplight.

"Saxony," Roderich greeted coolly.

The man's thin eyebrows lifted upwards. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Of course not." He sat up straighter and set aside the cloth, giving the other his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"Is he dead?"

Roderich glanced at Vash reflexively. He was clearly breathing. Violet eyes returned to the other duchy, narrowing slightly. "No. He's asleep."

Saxony _ahh'ed_ airily. "Would have been a pity, after all of our efforts to bail him out today."

Roderich grimaced, his hands clenched into fists. "What are you doing here?"

"Saying hello?"

"Don't be cheeky," Roderich lashed. He had no mind for patience. "Why are you so far south?"

"Burgundy called for my aid." Saxony sniffed and inspected his nails, his words incessantly smug. "And Bavaria insisted I come. Like I said," he gestured at Vash's sleeping form, "it would have been a pity if that blade had met its mark."

_"You—!"_ The brunet tensed, his knuckles cracking. Had the Saxon—Roderich eyed the sinister knife on his belt, his heart racing. _No. No, it's impossible. We're on the same side._ There was no way. He forced himself to ask, "You saw it happen?"

"All I'm saying is that if it weren't for my presence today, maybe your precious Schwyz wouldn't be here. Sleeping soundly in your bed." The blond's grin widened, and there was a vicious glint in his blue-green eyes. "Perhaps a little gratitude is in order."

The bite of the Saxon's words gnawed at his throat, and Roderich stayed silent.

It wasn't the first time he'd been threatened by his neighboring duchies. It wouldn't be the last. He could take the insinuations, and not-so-subtle jabs at his own ability to survive, but he couldn't stand when the others so blatantly insulted his dearest companion. Saxony may be larger than either of them, but he knew that Vash could win against him in a heartbeat. He believed it with his whole being.

Yet Vash was asleep. _Injured._ What could he do right then? Roderich was alone.

So he endured.

Roderich unclenched his jaw and lowered his head. He let out a breath, smoothing down the front of his tunic to distract from the tremble in his hands. "Thank you for your help today, Severin."

"That's all?" the Saxon lilted, pouting. "Nothing more?"

"What do you want?"

"Come share my tent."

Roderich swallowed. He glanced at Vash.

"I don't see why you insist on hanging around this vagabond. Every time I see you you're hanging off his arm, even though you're independent now," the blond Saxon went on, tone weirdly gentler than before. As if he were propositioning something distasteful and trying to make it sound perfectly reasonable. Which he was. "We all know you're not completely useless. You can do better than this. Bavaria even said that you were quite pleasant to have beneath him, for a time."

The brunet couldn't help his wince, inwardly shuddering with every word.

Saxony lifted a hand up to draw his attention, and Roderich's breath caught on the edge of the man's smile. "Perhaps we can come to a similar arrangement."

If it weren't for the lump in his throat and the stones in his stomach, Roderich would have cursed the man up and down, from the North Sea to the Mediterranean and back again for the rest of the night. However, he couldn't manage even a peep. The air within the tent was stifling, and he could feel the Saxon's very presence weighing on him, ready to swallow him whole.

"You know," Saxony went on, leaning back on his hands comfortably. "At my place, you could even have your own bed. I bet that would be nice for a change." The fair-haired man's smile and the gleam in his eye chilled the brunet to the bone. "Of course, if you'd rather share _mine,_ I'm sure we could—"

Without warning, a bag hit Saxony square in the face. Roderich was pushed backwards, and he blinked at the sudden body blocking him from the other man as he caught himself. _He's awake? He really is . . ._

Vash reached for a nearby boot and raised it up. Roderich saw the Saxon rip the bag off of himself, teal eyes blazing. The brunet couldn't see Vash's expression, but he could tell from how the man held himself—shoulders braced, back hunched—that his friend was readying himself for a fight.

"Ah, Schwyz," Saxony addressed coldly. He smiled with teeth. "I suppose you heard all that, then."

_"Many _thanks for your hard work today," Vash spat, his fingers creasing the boot leather. "Now get out."

"Let's handle this sensibly." Saxony knelt up, his hands raised protectively as he tried to placate the other. "Why don't we—"

_"Get out!"_

Vash chucked the boot with all his might, the object no less dangerous than a spear. Saxony scrambled out of the tent, and the man's laughter disappeared into the rest of the encampment.

Piercing green eyes whipped around to pin him to the spot. Roderich's heart beat faster and lighter than before, and he felt as if he could breathe again. He got up to fetch the wayward boot and bag, not even noticing the twinge from his leg, and made sure to tie the tent flap closed extra well from the inside.

Settling back on the other side of Vash, he watched as the man lowered himself onto the bedding. Roderich was working to say something, to thank him, _to anything,_ when the other grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sleep.

Vash held his hand as he closed his eyes. His beloved companion said no more for the rest of the night. Roderich fell asleep to the storm in his chest as the sky opened above them.

As darkness took him that hand holding his let go.

**...xXx...**

Roderich had suggested they take a cart. He'd even offered to share a horse for the trip home. Either of which would have allowed his friend to rest properly and not aggravate his wounds. He was shot down on both accounts.

_Is he angry with me?_ he thought, glancing at Vash for the hundredth time that morning.

They'd left at the first break of dawn. Neither talked about it, but both agreed that it would be for the best if they left before the others awoke. They'd each let their respective captains know to return home as soon as they could before doing exactly that themselves.

Thankfully, the storm hadn't lingered, arriving swift and heavy. The air was cool and grey, and there was thick fog all around them as they kept a close eye on the trail. Vash sat atop his mare, back straight and chin high, with a scowl painted on his face that had been there since breakfast. Undoubtedly because of the events of yesterday.

The back of the dark-haired man's neck felt hot, and Roderich wanted to slip away into the fog.

He could tell the blond's emotions as easily as his own, even if figuring out the source behind them was always harder to guess. But he had a good idea this time.

Roderich urged his horse up beside the other's as he drew on his courage. "Vash."

Said man grunted in acknowledgement, but didn't turn to him. He kept his eyes on the path.

"How, ah, how are you feeling?" he asked. It sounded more like a question towards himself. Like, _What are you doing asking such a stupid thing?_

It was quiet for a moment before he received a reply. "Fine."

Roderich's heart sank. That was the worst kind of answer!

Early morning passed into proper morning and gradually stepped towards midday before he could even call the worm in his gut _courage_ again. There was a low cloud of mist still hanging over the surrounding plains, though the sky was brighter and warmer. Not quite warm enough, the claws of winter still dragging through the valleys, but it was nice all the same.

They were stopped for a quick lunch, taking a stretch as they let their mounts rest. Vash refused his help in getting down off his mare, swatting his hands away.

Taking a bite of bread, Roderich thought he was going to go mad if Vash didn't say something soon. His companion was picking at his own food, taking small bites here and there, but otherwise barely eating. He was fairly pale, his freckles faded, eyes distracted and dull.

The worry overran the fear.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Roderich murmured, doing his best to sound simply concerned and not scared.

Vash only grunted again.

The brunet curled more on himself and stared at his boots, pressing onward through the thicket between them.

"I know you're angry," he said quietly, "but can you please just say something? It can be about the weather or the horses. Anything. _Please._ Or at least let me look at your injury. You look like you're about to pass out and I'd really like to know if you're actually okay or if your wound has opened again and you need fresh bandages—"

Forest green irises stared at him through his rambling and Roderich couldn't hold back his tumble of words any more than he could hold back a river.

"—and I'm just really, _really_ worried about you. I don't want you to take what Saxony said to heart. I don't—"

Roderich was cut off by a flick to the nose. He looked up at Vash with wide eyes to see the man was smiling at him. Vash puffed a sigh and then chuckled, and a heat spread across the brunet's cheeks.

"Hey!" Roderich felt the stones in his belly roll away at the sound of his friend's laughter, one by one.

"You worry too much, Rod," Vash said.

"Well." Roderich rubbed his nose, glancing down into his lap. "I care about you."

He didn't know why Vash gasped. _It's obvious isn't it?_ Or why he flinched away from him. Something about that _hurt._

"You care about me, too, yes?" Roderich asked hesitantly. _It can't be just me._

"What nonsense are you on about?"

The brunet's heart sank and he lowered his head. He could feel the other looking at him as he picked at his bread.

"That's the last thing you'd ever need to ask me." The fair-haired man sighed again and set aside his lunch. Roderich startled as Vash suddenly pulled his tunic over his head, muttering through the fabric. "Come on. I need to change the bandages anyway."

And just like that, the air between them was back to normal. His stubborn companion even agreed to ride with him on his horse for the rest of the trip. Both of them were relieved by the prospect.

They chatted idly along the misty moors, and Roderich held the other securely against his chest. A blossom of heat bloomed in his heart as Vash leaned into him, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

**...xXx...**

It was well after midnight before they finally returned to the Heathergrove Estate.

Roderich brought the horses to a halt a distance from the gate. Vash had dozed off in front of him not long after the sun had set. He'd been stoic throughout the day, even though the brunet could see just how much pain he was in, but he refused to comment on it. Roderich had offered for them to take breaks alongside the road, but that would have been hard on them both and Vash insisted that they simply push on to get home as soon as possible. He was grateful when the blond managed to fall asleep for a little while, and hoped that it would give him a reprieve from the hole in his gut.

Now that they had come to a stop his friend stirred awake.

The grounds were dark and quiet, with only a single lamp lit at the gate. Which was open. Not even the watchman was at his post.

_Something's wrong,_ he thought. He said as much to Vash before the other could speak. They both went still.

A few moments passed. Only the sounds of the woods around them could be heard; the chorus of crickets, a distant barn owl, and the canopy above them rustled in the nightly breeze. The nervous stamping of the horses only solidified their apprehension.

Vash took the lead from him and urged the anxious horses to continue forward. Roderich carefully pulled his sword and held it at the side, ready to defend them if needed. There wasn't anything obvious to them as an outright danger, besides the lack of the usual watchman, but neither of them lived as long as they did without trusting their instincts.

"Where's Bamber?" Roderich wondered. "Is he inside for the night?"

Something scuttled under some nearby bushes and Vash shushed him.

Stopping at the opened gate, Roderich dismounted. He quickly shook out his sore leg, ignoring the crushing pain, and patted the neck of his stallion.

"Stay here," he whispered. "Keep the horses ready."

Roderich lifted his blade and was about to step in to inspect the courtyard when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Glancing up at his friend, Vash held a finger up to his lips and pointed towards the manor.

The light of a candle moved passed one of the windows.

Vash drew his own sword as Roderich limped carefully through the gate. The two were on high alert as the flickering light passed by the front windows, disappearing behind where the door was. In the next moment, the door opened.

Just then footsteps approached them on the left, running from around the corner of the wall, and Roderich instantly swung his blade. There was a shout and the thump of something on the dirt.

The tip of his sword stopped a hair's width away from a face.

Roderich held firm as he inspected the hooded figure before him. All the blood had drained from the man's chubby cheeks and usually red nose, and he held his arms up in front of him as if to block the blade. One hand held the head of a rabbit by its ears. The body was on the ground, cleanly severed.

_"Bammy!"_ a woman cried from the manor, and Roderich glanced to see Helene rushing across the courtyard in her nightgown and shawl.

Roderich swiftly lowered his sword, taking a step back from the shaking man. "Ah, sorry about that!" he said as he reached down to pick up the rabbit, tittering nervously. He heard Vash sigh and sheath his weapon, untwisting from his readied stance.

Despite the relief at not having to deal with an intruder, Roderich was still agitated. _Something_ was off, and he'd learned to trust his gut over the years.

"H-Herr Roderich!" Bamber stammered, swaying on his feet. The poor man looked ready to faint. "You're b-back!"

"My apologies, Bamber," Roderich said. He handed the watchman the rest of his catch. "You crept up on me."

"Nice swing, _Hasi,"_ Vash murmured.

"I was, uh, I heard the coney screamin'," the man said slowly, in a daze. "I went to check the snare I'd put out earlier, and, uh, I-I . . ."

Helene ran up to them, already raising an accusing finger at him in particular. Roderich could feel the incoming storm and sheathed his sword just in case the housekeeper thought to grab it and wave it at him angrily.

Before she could get a word out, Vash cut her off with a cough. "We're back."

The silver-haired woman huffed and turned to him. "Welcome back, Young Masters. Now, if ye wouldn't mind explainin' yerselves." She waved at the watchman's frozen form pointedly. "I get up to give ol' Bammy his nightcap to find ye tryin' to run 'im through!"

"Frau Helene."

Roderich's unease spiked at his friend's softened words and he looked to see that the blond's lips were pressed firmly together, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

"Are there any fresh bandages available?" Vash hunched forward and wrapped an arm around his abdomen with a grunt. "I may . . . urgently require them . . ."

"Vash!" Roderich rushed over as the blond tipped sideways in the saddle, catching him. He went completely limp and was panting heavily, a sticky warmth seeping through his skin and clothing. As the brunet struggled to hold him up properly he felt a wetness soaking into his sleeve.

His vision blurred. _No, no, no_—

"Oh dear. Let's get him off that stinkin' beast." Helene's tone immediately shifted, and she hurriedly ushered them across the courtyard.

Bamber had to help him carry Vash inside the manor. Roderich may have been taller than his companion, but he was also injured and not nearly as strong as the other yet. Helene opened the master bedroom for them and then quickly went off to fetch some supplies. All of the commotion woke the rest of the household and soon Thomas and a few of the maids had wandered in to see what was going on.

Roderich sat in the window seat with Vash cradled in his arms as the others bumbled about preparing the bed and bandages for their impromptu patient.

He paid close attention to the amount of blood soaking through the other's tunic and into his lap. It was too much.

_Far too much._

That night Vash came close to death, and Roderich was beyond inconsolable.

**...xXx...**

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"I feel fine."

"You haven't eaten anything other than broth for over a week."

"I'm not—"

"If you don't eat then I'll have no choice but to force you."

"Yeah?"

"Of course!"

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I'll sit on you until you eat!"

"What?!"

"I'll do it! I'm going to do it!"

"Hey! Rod, _don't—!"_

Thomas sighed, listening to the young masters with ever growing weariness. Looking at the two teenagers squabble back and forth, blustering loudly and wrestling around on the bed, one would hardly think that just days ago the bedroom had been like a mausoleum.

Young Master Roderich had kept vigil over his ailing companion day and night, unmoving and uncompromising. Thomas had lost count of how many times he'd urged the master to go rest in one of the spare bedrooms, to no avail.

The young man simply wouldn't listen to him, or anyone, or say anything at all. After Vash had collapsed it was as if a curtain had fallen upon the household, and Roderich had become a shadow of himself.

The dark-haired youth wouldn't eat or sleep. His skin was caked with wet earth, sweat, and dried blood; and he refused to move to even change his clothes. Helene and the maids had to drag him away after the second day to bathe him. After the fastest bath he'd ever seen a lord take—and Thomas was half convinced that he just dumped a bucket of water on himself—Roderich was right back beside his unconscious friend.

_Friend? Unlikely._

Thomas had sent Kolman to fetch the doctor in town as soon as dawn broke. He would have gone himself, if only so he wouldn't have to hear his young master softly cry through the doorway. Or watch the boy hold his brother in his arms when he thought the room was empty.

_Brother? Absurd._

Thomas was old, and he'd seen much over the years serving lords after ladies. He'd rarely seen someone so beside themselves for another, willing to spiral into a depressive recluse at the sight of an injury. Not a husband for his wife after a hard labor, nor a parent to their child after they'd fallen ill.

Thomas watched as the two youths playfully rebuffed each other. He could see that, even though Roderich was scolding the other and holding him down by the shoulders, he was being gentle. Vash was putting up a face of annoyance and struggle, but ultimately let himself be held down. At this rate, both of their dinners would be inedible.

The butler cleared his throat. "Young Masters, if you would settle down, please. Your stew is getting cold."

Vash looked at him and gestured to the blue robed lump laying on across his chest. "I already told him I'm not hungry, so you can take mine away."

Roderich whined like a dog, his face buried in the blankets. _"Fine._ If you're not hungry, then I'm not hungry. Take mine away as well."

Thomas stiffened.

"What are you talking about?" Vash pushed at his shoulder with an exasperated expression. "You've hardly eaten all day."

"And you _haven't_ eaten all day!" Roderich knelt up, pouting like he was ten years younger. "If you're going to starve yourself then you might as well have company."

"What kind of logic is that?"

"Perfect logic from where I'm sitting!"

"Well, you're sitting on _me_ so get off and eat your dinner!"

"Only if you eat something!"

_"Ugh!_ You idiot—"

Their bickering continued with no end in sight. The exhausted butler learned early on after taking on these wards that it would only waste everyone's time to try and break them up in any sense of the word, so he let them be.

Thomas left the room with a sigh. _These kids are really something._

Once their onlooker left them, closing the bedroom door after his retreat, the two young men settled down. The room was still for a few heartbeats.

Roderich hovered above his beloved, staring down at him with a complicated face. He leaned down to press a light kiss to Vash's cheek and the frustration evaporated from both of them. He murmured into a pink ear, "Do you know how worried I've been?"

Vash breathed quietly, but his heartbeat was loud.

Roderich wrapped his arms around him, bringing their chests together. He held his most important person to him for a long while, petting his fingers through golden locks. He was unwilling to think about how he almost lost this feeling of . . . _this._

Air tickled his neck as Vash exhaled slowly. "Our food is getting cold." There was a pause, then a hand patted his back. "Come on, let's eat."

Heart lifting from the abyss it had been dangling over for days, Roderich exhaled with ease and agreed.

**...xXx...**

If he had to hear that they should be sleeping in separate rooms _one more time_ he was going to burn every bed in the manor. Then _no one_ would be happy.

Helene was relentless.

Thomas was of no help, as the older gentleman usually ended up taking the housekeeper's side or simply walked away with a _tsk _and some mutterings. Kolman was too shy to say anything outright, preferring to run off to do something whenever Helene tried to corner him for a backup opinion. The other maids avoided the situation whenever the older woman picked a fight with Roderich about it, though he definitely caught the girls giggling behind their hands in the background on several occasions. Eckhart kept mum about his opinion on the whole thing, and Bamber was utterly clueless to the young lord's plight.

The old maid, however, was constantly on him about it.

_"It's unusual for two men to share a bed, ye know," _she said.

_"Ye both need to grow up," _she'd add.

Or sometimes the woman would try to guilt trip him with, _"Don't ye want yer own rooms? What I'd give to have my own space." _

When he offered her one of the spare rooms instead of her bunking in the servant's quarters she'd huffed and puffed like a bursting kettle. _"That's not the point! I'm sayin' what yer doing is going to be spoken around amongst the others, and soon all the other lords'll know that you young masters are, are__—__! It's not proper!"_

Not 'proper'? What does that even mean?!

At least Vash didn't have to listen to the nagging.

Roderich assumed it was because he was the more approachable of the two, though he could never follow other people's logic on that. Just because Vash was reserved and a bit rough around the edges, like an unpolished stone, that didn't mean he was ready to cut the fingers of anyone wanting to reach out to him. Roderich frowned just thinking about it.

The lack of pestering on the blond's end might also have been because everyone were simply happy to see that Vash had recovered from his brush with death. The household thought his injury was gleaned from dealing with bandits while on the road, an unfortunate incident to encounter while travelling. Having citizens be unaware of their true identities was nothing new, and neither entities felt the need to try and clarify the truth behind their existence.

Sometimes it was easier to pass for humans. If only it would make a _certain woman _hound him less.

Now the day was sunny and cloudless, and a fragrant breeze surrounded the estate. Vash had nearly recovered from his wound, an angry red scar and some soreness being the few markers that he'd been bedridden only days ago. The golden-haired youth exaggerated appearances around the staff—wincing, limping, mostly staying in bed reading—but both of them knew that he was healed enough to enter the battlefield again. Roderich's leg had also mostly recovered, his knee no longer twisted, and he, too, could be called into action at any moment.

The woes of a strong entity state.

Roderich had convinced Vash to come sit with him in the garden. It was a beautiful day for it, and both were relieved to spend time together outside after the two weeks spent holed up in the mansion.

Vash rested on a wooden bench in the shade of a lilac tree, curled up under a light quilt with a few sheets of parchment in his hands. Roderich sat a few meters away, weeding around the budding rosemary plant as he listened to Vash read aloud the letters they'd put off responding to.

Or, he _had_ been listening, until Helene came out with drinks for them. "It's nice to see ye two out of that room," the woman greeted.

"It's a nice day to be out," Vash replied, turning over the letters to accept the offered glass of milk.

"That it is." Roderich rubbed the sweat from his brow as Helene stared at him from across the garden. The housekeeper walked over to him and offered him the remaining glass as she said lightly, "There's a few merchants that came into town, and I was goin' to take the others to go see what we can pick up. With the masters' permission, o'course."

"Of course," Roderich said, taking a grateful drink. It was the perfect day to go into town, or into the hills for a ride. He glanced at Vash, then gestured to the rosemary in front of him. "I'm sure we can hold down the fort while everyone is gone for a few hours."

Vash snorted off to the side and he snuck him a grin. They'd held down _actual _forts, after all.

Roderich went to pull up a particularly stubborn weed when the shadow draped over him distracted his attention, and he glanced back up. Helene stood there a moment, as if she wanted to say something more. Hovering like a mother hen.

_Oh dear. Not again._

"Is there something else, Helene?" Vash's voice from the side startled them both, and the older woman swiftly took a step back, smoothing down her skirt.

"Nothin' that can't wait, sir," she answered.

"Then you're dismissed." Vash shooed and turned to the letters he'd set aside. "Feel free to take your time in town, and be safe on the road."

Helene's lips pursed briefly and she quickly composed herself. After asking if they'd like anything from in town, the housekeeper took her leave. The woman disappeared back into the estate, but not before sending Roderich a wrinkled grimace.

_She wanted to ambush me,_ he moaned inwardly. Roderich sighed and stood up, finishing off his glass of milk. He walked over towards the bench and set the glass aside, flopping down onto the grass in front of Vash.

"What's with that face?" Vash asked him.

Roderich crossed his arms on the other's lap and buried his face into the quilt with a groan. He knew he'd only dodged the old maid's ire for the time being and he wasn't looking forward to when she'd more than likely corner him after dinner. _Again._

A hand laid on his head, calloused fingers threading through umber-colored locks. Roderich let his stiff shoulders relax at the familiar comforting gesture.

"So," Vash began softly. He could feel the other give him his full attention. "You've been avoiding Helene a lot lately."

"Mmm."

"What are you two fighting about?"

"We're not fighting," Roderich mumbled into his arms._ It's more like I've been running from a flood for weeks._ "She's just unrelenting."

"About what?" The warm fingers in his hair stilled.

The memory hit him again, the one comment that started it all: _'Aren't ye two getting a little old to share a bed?'_ He shuddered.

The brunet turned his head to look up into his companion's concerned face. Grass green irises gazed into him, and Roderich felt his heart flutter.

As if a serpent were accosting him in the garden.

_What is this feeling?_

Roderich lifted his head and stared up at Vash. Hay-colored locks swept across freckled cheeks in the lilac scented breeze, and he was close enough that his breath affected the strands. His cheeks burned hotter the longer he looked.

For whatever reason, every time he even so much as glanced in Vash's direction his entire being would light up from within. And if Vash met him halfway, well . . . It was as if he were a firefly dancing around the sky on a moonlit night.

Since when had his vision changed? When did his desire to touch outweigh his desire to stay unobtrusive? When had Vash become more than the golden knight that he ran to? The guardian who always stood in front of him, above him, an impenetrable shield around him. Now he warmed his bed and his heart above all else; his fingers tingled as they held hands, pulse quickening at their proximity, mind going into rapture whenever Roderich witnessed him stand victorious over the field of battle. He couldn't recall having felt this way during the early days of their partnership, when they'd been forced together for mutual survival, or if he'd had he'd merely forgotten.

However, the more he looked up into Vash's eyes, he knew there was no way he'd ever forget this feeling.

Roderich smiled up at his best friend. "It's nothing to worry about, really. Only some nit-picking."

The corners of Vash's mouth ticked down slightly. He didn't look like he believed him. The blond tilted his head down and met his violet gaze seriously, making the brunet's smile widen. "Are you sure? Do we have to leave?"

The fact that they had been settled at Heathergrove since mid-winter weighed heavy on them both for the moment. The pair never stayed in one place too long if they could help it—or they never really had the chance to. They moved from town to town, valley to valley; from sleeping under the stars to crashing in taverns, to invitations to stay in various lords' manors to kind farmers' barns for the night. Whether it be in his own territory or Vash's didn't matter, only staying together did.

So it was no wonder his companion worried about having to move again.

"Nonsense," Roderich said, quick to ease the other's nerves. _It's not like the servants can kick us out, after all. Not over sleeping arrangements._

"You like it here, don't you?" Vash waved towards the forgotten pink carnations, fresh dirt clinging to his fingers. "You've even taken up gardening."

"Only because you can't kneel down to do it, and you like the flowers."

"I do."

"Then I'll do my best to keep them growing."

Vash sighed and leaned back against the bench. Roderich laid his head down happily, like a dog waiting for more attention from its master.

He _did_ like it there, and if Vash liked it too then he wanted to try his hardest to make it so they could stay.

After all, they deserved a home together.

**...xXx...**

Helene didn't round on him after dinner, like he'd thought she would. No, she went straight to the heart of the matter.

The old woman walked up to Vash.

Roderich about tripped mid step as he heard Helene call out to his friend. With some odd excuse about needing to have Vash come take a look at something in the garden, as he really did have an eye for green _cultura,_ the housekeeper lead him outside under the twilight to talk. Roderich debated whether or not to listen in by the window, considering they'd been in the garden all day so _what_ could she possibly have to show him?

Abiding by the look Vash gave him before stepping outside, though, he held back.

Flooded with apprehension, Roderich made his way towards their room and began to prepare for bed. He tried not to think too much about what Helene must be saying to Vash, having faith in his friend's ability to subvert complaints. He was able to calm his wretched nerves instead by thinking of how nice the lilacs smelled that day, and how sunlight lit up golden hair like a campfire.

Vash returned just as he finished changing into his nightshirt. He stepped across the room after shutting the door and sat on the edge of the mattress. Roderich went over and sat beside him, watching the candlelight reflected in his friend's eyes.

The irises shone like emerald gemstones. _I didn't know they did that._

Vash unlaced his boots, his mouth in a firm line. Unable to take the tension any longer, Roderich finally bucked up and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Mmm?" The blond glanced up at him. He kicked off his boots and set them to the side. "Yeah, everything's fine."

_Again with the 'fine'!_ The dark-haired man wanted to groan. "What did Helene want to talk to you about?"

"She gave me some seeds she acquired in town today."

"Oh?" Roderich was pleasantly curious. "What for?"

Vash stood up with a slight wince, and made his way over towards his pile of night clothes, beginning to dress down. It was several minutes before he responded, and Roderich spent the seconds picking at the frayed cotton hem of his shirt. Neither spoke as they settled under the covers and Roderich blew out the candle on the bedside table.

As the quiet of the night carried on, it was some time before Vash finally answered him.

"The cherry trees," he said faintly. "They're rotting."

_Oh._

Roderich turned his head to stare at his friend through the darkness, rays of moonlight filtering in through the window to give the blond a silvery outline. He immediately felt guilty about his selfish, innocuous fretting over Helene evaporated at once.

Vash exhaled heavily. "It's so hard to make anything stick."

Roderich turned over to face the other, murmuring willfully, "We can figure out a way to heal the rot. I'm sure of it."

Vash didn't respond. After a moment, he rolled over to face the other way and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders despite the early summer heat. Roderich lifted a hand and reached out, laying it on his shoulder.

The brunet knew that, even though Vash didn't say anything else, he was hurting inside. Plants and crops in general meant _so_ much to his friend, and he knew how hard it was for anything sustainable to grow at all. That's why Vash was so Hell-bent on gardening on his own. If he could keep a few fruits and vegetables alive and thriving in his own backyard, then what's to say his mountainous land as a whole didn't also have the chance to bear sustainable crops?

Even if his hand weren't on Vash's shoulder, Roderich could still feel just how far the blond's mood had plummeted. Deciding to test his luck, he trudged forward.

Roderich rubbed Vash's arm a few times, then he slowly scooted over to wrap his arms around his friend and held him soundly. He wished with all his might that he could share his valleys and fields and their fertile soil so Vash didn't have to consign himself to being a sellsword in order to afford to put dinner on the table. Now that Roderich was independent and more self-sustaining the blond didn't have to worry about providing for them both alone. The brown-haired youth was able to be the breadwinner on occasion, but that didn't change the fact that the land of Schwyz couldn't grow food on its own.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. "Please believe that." _I do._

Vash didn't reply. He laid there silently and let himself be embraced by the lanky youth. Roderich re-realized that the whole length of his body was now longer than the entirety of the one in his arms. He curled his legs up to keep them away from the bottom's edge, and Vash's legs hooked around his with another sigh.

Anxiety nibbled on his insides like rats in the larder, and after several more minutes of quiet Roderich asked, "Is it only the cherry trees?"

There was a pause, then Vash nodded.

_And is that all Helene said?_ he worried, unable to bring himself to ask. Though, it hardly mattered anymore. He refrained, and let it be.

All was hushed in the master bedroom of the estate for a long while. Gentle moonlight played shadow puppets through the soft curtains with their figures against the far wall.

Roderich thought his friend had fallen asleep. Adjusting his position to lay more comfortably, he settled himself to do the same. He was content where he was, curled around his favorite person, and was intent on staying like that for the rest of the night.

Vash wiggled in his hold right then and patted one of his hands, bringing him back from the edge of unconsciousness.

"You're squishing me," the blond quietly grumbled under his breath, "Since when did you get big enough to squish me?"

Roderich gave him a deliberate squeeze. "Is that a problem?" He hoped it wasn't. He didn't want to let go.

Vash scoffed and the brunet smiled against the back of his neck, guessing that the other was rolling his eyes at him.

"Let's get some sleep." With a few more pats, the blond relaxed fully against him and hummed, "Goodnight, _Hasi."_

**...xXx...**

Over the course of the next several months their lives became increasingly busy.

Roderich had nearly perfected his handwriting—and poem making, if Vash's praise was to be trusted. Which, _of course_ it was. He sometimes spied his fair-headed friend secretly rereading the verses at night before hiding the slips of parchment back in a drawer. A sight that made him want to sing.

Between the pair, he had unofficially taken up the role of scribe; composing letters, replying to various margraves and dukes, and keeping up correspondence with the Emperor. Roderich was quite fond of writing, and didn't mind the responsibility. Anything to help out his closest companion.

Vash spent most of his time practicing with a longer sword, adjusting his usual stance into one that exhibited more power with less energy waste. His strikes radiated a terrifyingly imposing aura, the blade singing through the air intensely. The very wind from his swing could practically slice through a solid oak. His previous injuries were only faint scars now.

They sparred frequently to keep their reflexes sharp. Roderich was no match for Vash's new technique—he had fallen completely backwards on the very first strike!—but they were on par in terms of archery, something that the brunet was obscenely happy about. Vash had even made a joke one night when Roderich had solved the local wolf problem with a single, well-placed shot to the alpha of the pack.

_"It seems the rabbit has hunted the wolf."_ He then called him a _little bunny_ a few more times and ruffled Roderich's dark hair.

Helene no longer approached either of them regarding separate rooms. Roderich idly wondered if she had said something to Vash about it and gotten a scolding, or if the woman was just tired of getting nowhere with her stubborn wards. Either way, life around the manor was peaceful.

Roderich and Vash both grew more, as well. Roderich was starting to fill out his lithe form with something akin to muscles. All his training with Vash and the frequent need to put his acquired skills to use seemed to be paying off. He appeared more like a young man now than ever before. Vash similarly got taller and stronger, and though he still only came up to Roderich's nose he didn't seem to mind.

The hazel-haired man hardly cared, since he could easily kiss Vash's forehead now any time he wanted without having to stretch up on his toes. Vash would swat at him whenever he did so in front of others and he would dance away laughing.

He noticed increased attention from some of the townsfolk, too. Particularly of the _femme_ variety. Roderich didn't know why young maidens kept approaching him, offering him free apples or flowers, or coming up to him before quickly going red in the face and running off. All he knew was that he didn't like it when they did it to his companion.

_Not at all!_

Vash, _bless him,_ only had his attention focused on warfare and waved them all away. Much to the relief of his angrily confused best friend.

Unfortunately, having the time to ponder just _why_ he was feeling upset over free fruit from shy girls was not a luxury Roderich had.

The two of them fought in over half a dozen more skirmishes with their Frankish adversary. Schwyz and Burgundy took a constant beating, but never once backed down. The Holy Roman Empire wasn't about to let two of its territories be trampled recklessly, either, and their last big retaliation had left their enemy reeling, giving both sides a reprieve from the bloodshed for the time being.

Burgundy held a Midsummer Festival as thanks for the continued support along the border and invited all their neighboring duchies to join in. Nearly everyone would be attending, and even the big man himself was supposed to show.

They couldn't decline to go.

Thomas and Helene had insisted they take one of the staff with them on their journey. Over the course of the year the household slowly figured out that the pair of them must be connected with the war efforts along the Western border, discovering gradually that their lords may be more important and high standing than they'd originally thought—though, they were _technically_ lords, after all.

Poor Kolman was elected to go with them, despite protest. The young, gangly footman looked both thrilled and terrified to travel outside of the valley for the first time, and timidly assured them that he would do his best to tend to them along their journey.

With well wishes and plenty of travel comforts bestowed upon them, the trio set off from Heathergrove with mixed feelings. For Roderich, it was even more complicated.

On one hand, it had been quite awhile since the territories had gathered together all in one place and it would be nice to catch up with their fellow brothers and sisters.

He was particularly fond of Burgundy—for they frequently came to Vash's aid whenever called, and that was enough to place them on a high pedestal in Roderich's heart. He also fairly liked the Landgraviate of Hesse, who had been appointed to a principality around the same time he himself had officially received his own title of _Österreich._

_Austria._ He'd rolled it over his tongue and his thoughts, familiarizing himself with his now permanent name. _The Eastern Realm. _Roderich supposed he was farther East than most of his counterparts in the Empire, so the name wasn't too unfitting. He found that he didn't mind that his people would therefore be known as _Austrians,_ and so, too, would he.

Roderich pulled away from his reminiscing to focus back on the other duchies that would be attending. That, and making sure Kolman didn't walk his horse into a ravine again.

Squabbles were bound to breakout between the rest of the Germanic and Latin duchies. The Germans could barely stay in the same room with each other without some sort of brawl breaking out, let alone mixing in what they considered to be _'outsiders.'_ It was going to be madness.

The trio enjoyed the tranquility of the road before the storm of arrival.

Coming upon the rolling green fields of their destination, a sea of tents and horses greeted their sight.

It seemed that the others had brought along small squads of soldiers with them—always prepared for an ambush, especially along the border—so there were over a hundred tents set up. Such a sight was too familiar. There were dozens of fire pits around the gathering and in the center there was the largest bonfire, yet to be lit, constructed out of logs that must have been transported from a nearby forest.

Roderich and Vash had brought no such soldiers or added men. Well, _mostly._

Both glanced at their footman with the same expectation, and they were sadly not disappointed. Kolman looked like a spellbound doe. The man's dark eyes were wide, his complexion pale, and if he weren't gripping the reins like a lifeline they would have worried he might fall off his horse.

Kolman startled as Vash gave him a pat on the back. The blond directed his own horse onward and lead them towards the camp.

Roderich trotted up beside Vash and glanced back at the footman, calling to him, "Don't worry. It's not like we're enlisting you or anything."

"Don't get left behind," Vash added. "Or lost."

"Right!" Kolman snapped back to himself and hurried after them.

Amused, Roderich smiled to his beloved and murmured, "I think we're late."

Vash hummed in agreement. Everyone else had already arrived. Which was a tad ironic, considering they were the closest duchies and yet they were the last to show.

As the trio approached the edge of the first few tents a rider donned all in sharp, pristine black leathers and cloak approached them. The figure was thin and held their head high, a black sheathed longsword apparent on their right hip. They sported long, pale pearl-colored hair that was braided back on either side over their ears and pulled into a high ponytail. Roderich noted that the tail end of the ashy locks were dyed black.

"Welcome." Keen, silver eyes appraised the men thoroughly as they greeted them in a light, slightly raspy voice. "I'm glad you've come."

"Yes." Vash subtly tilted his head towards the footman, those silver eyes following the direction. "It's good to see you, Merle."

At the mention of their name, the Duchy of Burgundy caught on right away. They easily understood the blond's unspoken statement: _This one doesn't know our true identities._

"I hope your journey went well. I saved you a spot," Burgundy said as they turned their steed around. "There's plenty of room for you to camp next to me."

"Thank you."

Roderich's nerves were put at ease as they followed the cool-headed duchy.

Burgundy _did_ cut quite a striking figure anywhere they went. They were both slim-faced and effeminate, and they had a subtle strength about them that especially shone through from the way they held themselves around the ranks of soldiers. Roderich had a suspicion that they might not be a man, but he had no proof really either way. The duchy responded to both _Herr _and _Fraulein,_ and, as long as they could swing a sword, it hardly mattered on the battlefield.

Roderich turned to make sure their footman was following them and saw that Kolman was staring at the Burgundian with awed eyes. The brunet blinked.

_He looks lightning struck!_

Roderich swiftly looked away and urged his horse forward, hiding his smile behind his sleeve.

Burgundy took them through the cluster of tents. Various soldiers were either chatting in large groups or helping hordes of servants roll out barrels of what can only be assumed to be copious amounts of alcohol. Food was being cooked, the smell of meat and spice thick in the air, and others were setting up large festival tents. Carts upon carts of food and musicians sat around the fire pits, getting an early start on the entertainment.

It would be a Midsummer Festival to remember.

**...xXx...**

The afternoon ambled casually towards evening. The day had been hot and cloudless, and it looked like a nightly breeze was going to bring in some cool relief.

Burgundy brought them to a clear patch of grass near the large bonfire in the center. Their flag crests were planted in the ground beside one another and there was plenty of room to set up dozens of tents, let alone three. Roderich and Kolman took to setting up the tents while Burgundy and Vash lead the horses to some nearby posts.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, Roderich watched them walk across the field as the footman came up beside him.

"M'lord, could I ask you something?" Kolman said slowly.

"What is it?" Roderich turned to him and raised an eyebrow at the other's hesitation. _It's not like I'm going to bite your head off, so buck up, kid._

Kolman opened and closed his mouth several times before pointing upwards at the flags. "You're a lord from _Österreich,_ yeah?" Roderich nodded. "Why do you live in our valley then? Don't you have your own house?"

"I do." Roderich stared at him for a moment, contemplated, then said, "But I stay here because I want to."

_Of course I have my own residence,_ he thought as he turned to start putting stakes in the ground. _Not that I need it, or use it._ He looked over towards a distant head of hay-colored hair. _Or want it._

Kolman didn't ask for him to elaborate, probably too skittish question his master about such a thing twice.

It didn't take them long to set up the tents, and soon the group had reunited with each other. As the sky blushed a rosy pink, the excitement in the air finally kicked up and everyone began to celebrate in earnest.

Roderich and Vash sat on one of the dozens of laid out logs, enjoying a hot meal. Kolman had been urged to go off and join some of the crazier party goers, mostly because neither of them could stand watching the kid look around like a longing pup. That, _and _it would be easier to discuss political matters with the others if he weren't present. With a few forlorn looks vaguely in Burgundy's direction, the footman was quickly swept away by a troupe of dancers.

The white-haired duchy sat on the other side of Vash, and the three of them spent the evening catching up.

Roderich idly wondered where the other duchies were hiding. He'd seen the flags stationed around the field, the tents and troops, but none of the entities themselves. It wasn't until everything became hotter and brighter before their fellows emerged into the center clearing.

The massive, nearly twenty foot tall stack of wood was eagerly lit, and the bonfire night had begun.

Roderich spotted a figure sauntering across the far side of the bonfire and stiffened. Vash noticed the change and followed his gaze, doing the same.

After a moment of watching the yellow-haired man laugh and jeer with a few others, Vash clicked his tongue and bumped his shoulder against Roderich's, turning back to his remaining meal. "Pay no mind to that fool."

Roderich frowned and stared down at the grass, watching the orange firelight wave across the green.

"Did something happen between you two and Saxony?" Burgundy asked, drawing both of their attention. Roderich's scowl deepened and Vash rolled his eyes.

"Not much," he said. "He's just irksome."

"And a jackass," Roderich muttered. He kicked at a lump of grass. His mind whirled back to the week he'd spent with a near broken leg kneeling by Vash's bedside because he didn't know when, _or if,_ he was going to wake up. He suddenly had the urge to push the Saxon into the fire.

Vash pressed into his side again and stayed there.

Out of nowhere, the two of them were nearly knocked over from heavy hands clapping against their backs.

"Well, well! If it isn't my favorite star-crossed lovers!"

Both of them turned around at the familiar deep, sonorous voice and came face to face with the grinning Hesse.

The man was lean and very tall, built to hit hard and fast. His long, light blond hair was tied back in a high ponytail, loose bangs swept over his left eye. His right forest green iris looked over them in amusement, a newly made vertical scar slicing from his eyebrow to his lower cheek. Roderich almost never encountered him out of his shining silver armor, but today he only wore a simple blue tunic and black trousers, a white belt tied around his waist. He didn't carry a weapon. Yet again, he didn't need one.

"What rubbish are you spewing?" Vash leaned out of the other man's grasp and composed his surprise.

Roderich, however, was delighted to see the Hessian. "Velten!" He gestured at the scar. "Had a bit of trouble on the road?"

Hesse patted his shoulder and laughed. "Not at all." He pointed at the angry red line and beamed, dark eyes twinkling. "An eagle swooped down and tried to pluck out my eye! It didn't succeed, of course."

"Bullshit," Vash said. Burgundy snorted behind their hand.

"It's true, I swear! I have the feathers from that damned bird and everything," Hesse didn't look offended in the slightest. "Tied the few good-looking ones to my pommel and stuffed the rest in my pillow."

Vash didn't say anything else and simply finished off his stein of mead. Roderich reached out for the empty cup and stood, offering, "I'll go get you some more."

Vash nodded in thanks as Hesse walked around the log. "I'll join you. Merle, you want anything? No, I got you, I'll top you off." The man grabbed the Burgundian's half-drank stein without waiting for a reply and threw an arm around Roderich's shoulders, leading him off towards the stack of barrels.

The brunet youth glanced back to see the others watching him. Vash frowned.

The walk towards the mountain of alcohol seemed to stretch on in front of them, and the conjoined pair had to dodge many a reveler. Hesse's arm stayed around him and the man looked over with a playful smirk.

"So," Hesse drawled, "I heard you guys have a new place."

Roderich squeezed closer to the man for an instant to avoid being toppled over by a running flautist. "We do," he answered. "What about it?"

"Nothing, nothing. Is it nice? I heard you two moved in last winter."

Roderich had to think before he confirmed. _Has it already been so long?_ He wasn't used to staying in one place for more than a month or so.

The ochre-haired man proceeded to answer his companion's inquiries over the scenery and how they've been in general. Hesse appeared genuinely enthusiastic when he mentioned the bit of gardening him and Vash were working on.

The conversation was light and easy, the two of them sharing various summer experiences as they filled their cups full of sweet honey wine.

Turning back to return to the others, Roderich spotted Burgundy and Vash leaning close to each other as they talked. His muscles tensed and for some reason his stomach felt queasy. He had no idea why, though. _Must be the mead._

"Hey, now, are you sharing secrets without us?" Hesse called as they came up to the log. He handed Burgundy their stein with a wink and sat down with his own at the pale duchy's feet, leaning up against the wood. "That's not very nice."

Roderich sat down in his spot on the other side of Vash as Burgundy called the Hessian a dope. He handed his companion his drink and cradled his own in his lap. His stomach still felt off, and seeing that Vash's grimace hadn't gone away only made the sunken feeling dig deeper.

As the other two chatted, Roderich bent close to his friend and asked quietly, "Are you angry at Hesse?" _Wouldn't you tell me?_ he added inwardly.

Vash swallowed his mouthful of mead and shook his head, staring into the bonfire. Irises eyes shone like emeralds, his hair like a crown of topaz and gold. "He's too flirtatious."

Roderich burst into laughter, startling everyone. The pit in his gut began to fill, and he brightened up. He tried to wave away their staring as he calmed himself.

_I can see what he means, _he thought as he bit down on his smile. _I didn't think it would bother him like this, though._ His heartbeat fast, like rabbit paws bounding across the dirt.

If it weren't for the trick of firelight, he could swear that Vash's cheeks were red.

"Shut up!" Vash huffed, pushing his shoulder as Roderich fell into a fit again. "You're being an idiot!"

"But I'm _your _idiot," Roderich snickered behind a hand, having to set down his drink before he spilled it all over himself.

"See?" Hesse whispered loudly, pointing at them not-so-discreetly. Burgundy nodded with a solemn expression.

"What's to see?" Vash barked at them, face still flushed. Roderich chuckled a bit longer before settling down and looking at the others, too.

They pretended not to have heard the blond's ire. Hesse's face became dispirited and he clutched his tunic over his heart, falling backwards dramatically with a groan. Burgundy stifled another laugh, glancing at Vash apologetically.

"Ah, Schwyz, you seem to be in a mood today." Hesse propped up on an elbow with a grin. All traces of faux-distress completely gone. Ever graced with the gift of good timing, he continued by saying, "What, are you afraid I'm going to steal your little _Österhase_ away?"

"He's not mine!" Vash, flustered beyond saving, crossed his arms and snapped, "You can have him!"

Roderich blinked. Burgundy and Hesse were both wide-eyed.

"Vash, maybe . . ."

_"Pfft!_ You shouldn't say such things so easily! Look at his face. It looks like you've skewered him, the poor guy."

"It really does."

"Well, he's not! He's independent. I can't _claim_ him."

"I don't think that's what . . ."

"How heartless of you!"

_"Why, you—"_

Roderich stopped listening. The brunet sipped at his mead as his mind warred with his emotions.

He knew, he _knew_ what Vash meant. He did. That they were both independent duchy states beneath the Holy Roman Empire. That, if anything, the Empire was the one to _own_ him, own them both. That, _of course,_ there was no way for him to actually belong to Vash without the blond taking him over, either by force or politically, or vice versa. He _knew_ that fact wouldn't change the situation. _He knew._

But that didn't stop the invisible crow from pecking at the carcass of his heart.

Suddenly, someone tugged on his ear and he yelped. Roderich woke from his daze to see Vash pulling back his hand.

"Don't start thinking about nonsense again," the golden-haired man said, his words gruff but soft. "You'll give yourself a stomach ache."

Hearing this familiar scolding, he felt ashamed. Why did such simple statements bother him so much anymore? They didn't used to. Hell, Vash even used to joke about tossing him in a river and leaving him to fend for himself if he couldn't even swing a sword properly. He never did, and he never _would._ They both knew this, and yet lately it seemed like he overanalyzed everything the blond said or did.

Every little thing mattered _so much_ to him.

Roderich stared into grass green eyes, watching the yellow light of the bonfire dance around Vash's freckled cheeks on half his face, the other obscured by waving shadows of the night. Both halves collectively showcased his concern.

Roderich ignored the rest of his intrusive thoughts and forced a smile. "You're right."

Vash opened his mouth but was cut off by Hesse lightly kicking his leg. "Hush."

They would have been shocked at the Hessian's sudden move if it weren't for the fact that the whole camp had fallen silent. The musicians tapered off and soon the only sounds were that of the massive crackling bonfire and that of horse hooves.

A lone rider languidly made his way into the center ring of bonfire-light, the pure white stallion underneath him practically glowing.

The rider's black cloak flowed long and cascaded down over the back of the horse, the hood folded down to reveal a head of platinum shining blond hair, closely cropped and slicked back over his ears. His skin shone pale against his dark, crisp uniform, unmarred and smooth. His stature was that of a young teen, maybe even that of a child, but he held himself as a commanding officer and towered over the gathered men.

The Holy Roman Empire had arrived.

Someone ran up to catch the reins of the stallion as the young man swung off the saddle, blue eyes catching in the firelight as he observed the partygoers. Another bystander stood so quickly his drink spilled as he rushed to salute the newcomer, and like a wind refreshing a stagnant forest the rest of the crowd quickly followed suit.

The youth walked over towards a line of barrels and raised a hand to halt the flood of voices. Grabbing a large stein and filling it to the brim, the Holy Roman Empire gazed across the grouping.

"Well," he said, accented voice light and ringing out across the glade clearly. "This is a festival, yes? Don't stop on my account."

The drunker variety all _hurrahed_ loudly and urged the bands to start playing again. The quieter sort lifted their own drinks and toasted him, and just like that time had restarted again. Burgundy stood to go officially greet the Holy Roman Empire as a good host would, and the two conversed for the moment. The festival was in full swing; dancers pranced around with scarves and pulled revelers to and fro along with the music, the multiple bonfires lighting up the large meadow like an impromptu city, and the endless honey wine flowed like a river through the men.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Roderich had secretly rested his hand overtop Vash's on the log, hiding the sight between their thighs. He didn't look at the other, resolutely paying mind to the arrival of their Empire, but held onto his hand tightly to steady himself from earlier.

The intimate touch would have worked its magic if a certain Saxon hadn't decided to interrupt them.

He and Vash both unconsciously leaned closer to each other as the jaunty blond man walked over, and he flashed a toothy smile at the three duchies on the log.

"My, my," the Saxon sang, coming to a stop and placing a hand on his hip. "Back from the dead, I see. You still look a bit corpselike, though."

Saxony's words were directed at Vash, and Roderich was glad his friend didn't rise to the provocation and punch the duchy on the spot.

"Indeed." Vash took a sip from his mead and murmured, "I met God, and he said you were an asshole."

Hesse slapped his leg and roared in laughter on the grass, and Roderich snickered into his free hand. The Saxon laughed, too, and sighed pleasantly. "Ah, it's good to get away from the battlefield for awhile, isn't it? At least this field has more booze."

"Looks like you've gotten a head start on the rest of us," Hesse said, pointing out the nearly empty mug in the Saxon's hand.

Saxony stuck his tongue out at him childishly. "And? Your point?"

"My point!" Hesse stood with a grunt and downed the rest of his stein in one go. He stepped towards the Saxon and swung his arm around the shorter man's shoulders, swaying them both to the rhythm of the music. "Is that I believe I have a great chance of drinking you under the nearest table. _Or__—"_

The Hessian lowered his head to whisper something into the man's ear. Saxony's face flushed red almost immediately, lit by flame within and without. He rounded and punched Hesse in the shoulder, the warrior cackling at his reaction and dodging another punch.

_"As if!"_ Saxony snapped, face a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He pointed at the Hessian with his drink hand and challenged. "I could drink a ship full of beer and still be sober enough to kick your ass!"

"Haha, that's the spirit!"

As the two threw jabs at each other, the party fell into full swing again. Roderich at last felt ready enough to face his beloved companion once more when a distant voice called out to him.

_"Österreich."_

Roderich looked up to see the Holy Roman Empire approaching their log, Burgundy following behind. Saxony and Hesse stopped their mutual teasing and fell silent, moving to the side. Vash's hand twitched under his palm.

The young man came to a stop a little over a meter in front of him and threw one side of his cape over his shoulder, freeing up the arm that had his drink.

"Herr Roderich, I should say," the teen went on as ice blue eyes met violet. "We are off duty, after all."

"Herr Leon." The brunet quickly straightened his back and returned the less formal address. He smoothed down the front of his navy tunic, attempting to appear nonchalant in front of the great entity. "It's been quite some time."

"I say we're off-duty," Leon continued. His sharp eyes bore into him and then he grimaced down into his cup. "But I need to speak with you professionally."

Roderich startled as Vash spoke up before he could. "Has something happened?"

Leon glanced at Vash and didn't respond. He looked back to the dark-haired duchy and tilted his head to the side. "Walk with me."

Roderich couldn't refuse.

The two of them walked a good distance away from the center of the festivities and arrived at a large pavilion tent. Judging by the flag waving in the breeze and the white stallion tied off to the side, Roderich knew they were at the Empire's lodgings. Leon said nothing the entire walk, the silence between them pervaded by the cacophony of revelry all around, and as they stepped into the tent the canvas flap cut off the majority of outside noise.

The pavilion had simple furnishings. There was a square table with a few chairs around it in the center and a plush bed off in the corner. A wide chest sat at the foot of the bed, dark wood worn, and the simple table held various papers and handmade maps.

Roderich felt his muscles tense with lingering fatigue from battle past. _We're never off-duty._

"Sit." Leon gestured to one of the chairs and he complied, the young blond sitting opposite him.

The Empire slipped out one of the pieces of parchment and set it atop the others. Roderich watched him point to a particular ink spot and he recognized it as his own capital.

"I'm going to be moving to Vienna before winter sets in," Leon said. _Easily._ As if he were mentioning a passing breeze.

"You've been in Prague for years now." Roderich fisted his tunic beneath the lip of the table. "Why the sudden change?"

"Prague is wearing on me." Leon pushed the map closer and stood, rounding the side of the table until he could lean beside Roderich and gesture freely across the map. "It's more convenient for me to move, either way. There's been lots of unrest with the Mongols lately and Hungary has asked for assistance in acquiring materials to build better fortifications. I should be present if they get overrun in the meantime and the Mongols decide to venture too far inland. Not to mention, I'll be closer to my heart." Roderich watched as blue eyes drifted briefly South. "It'll be safer that way. Easier to spread instructions."

The hazel-haired youth sat and quietly listened to his Empire's reasoning. He nodded agreeably and ran a thumb across where his Vienna was located. "You are welcome to stay in my lands as long as you need, mein Kaiser," he said formally.

Informally, _inside,_ he wasn't so confident. The personification of his Empire coming to stay _his very lordly self_ in the brunet's capital was very daunting.

"Good." Leon adjusted his cape and stepped over to grab his abandoned mug of mead on the other half of the table, eyeing the other over the rim as he took a drink. "I expect you to stay with me."

Roderich tensed, and it took him a long moment before he could even form a coherent sentence in his brain. Leon kept his gaze on him the whole time, waiting patiently and watching the barrage of emotions fly across his face as he casually sipped his wine.

The stunned brunet swallowed the dread on his tongue and bit out a small, "Why?"

He wanted to sound indifferent. He didn't succeed, and the perceptive Empire saw right through him.

"Why not?" Leon countered, setting his drink down. "It makes sense for my host to be in his own realm, does it not? Especially since I am to be your guest for the foreseeable future as of this year."

_Foreseeable future? _"It's just . . ." Roderich struggled to word his concerns properly, in a way that _didn't_ make him seem like a whiny child. "I'm not used to staying at my own residence."

"I am well aware."

He couldn't say anything to that. Even though the dark-haired young man was much taller than the other, the Holy Roman Empire still loomed over him in the light of the oil lamp. He was a tiny beetle caught under the watchful gaze of a mountain.

Leon laid his hands on the wood and leaned forward, his oppressive presence reflecting the movement, and Roderich could swear the lamp in the corner dimmed under the weight of it.

"I understand your hesitation. You and Schwyz have travelled many moons together, after all, and have been a pair since before I was even born," Leon said, his words slow, precise. _Precise as a knife._ "So let me ask you this: Would it be easier if I formally merge you two?"

Roderich recoiled, eyes wide. The offer caught him like a fish in a barrel, his body stiff and mind churning.

The very _idea_ of combining with Vash made him—

_There's no way!_

It made him—

_We, we would be . ._ .

Roderich stared at the immovable entity in front of him. The child looked more like a man, like an Empire, immense and weathered.

Leon wasn't joking in the slightest.

"It might take some convincing," the small blond youth added, "but I'm positive that the others will agree with me if I bring it up. Vienna can still be the capital, it's the most advantageous location, after all." He cocked his head. "You two are already as close as moss on rocks, so what would it hurt?"

Roderich stood quickly, gripping the table tightly. He couldn't speak.

If they merged, then both _Schwyz_ and _Österreich_ would cease to exist as they have and become something, _someone,_ completely new. He wouldn't be _him_ any longer and Vash wouldn't be _his_ _Vash_. They would never see each other again, because they would never _be _again.

And all it would take would be a simple stroke of ink.

His breath snagged.

Horrified.

Roderich was _horrified._

He wouldn't get to lay with Vash in the fields on a spring afternoon ever again. Or look upon a pink, freckled face as he waited for grass green irises to wake in the morning. Or share tales and songs with him while they ate around a campfire. To write him poetry. To touch him. To hold him ever, _ever_ again.

He couldn't have that._ I couldn't. Not at all. Never._

"No," Roderich hurried to say once he regained some semblance of composure. "That won't be necessary."

"Oh?" Leon stared him down, blue eyes wintry like the tundra far to the East.

"Of course. I will return to Vienna before the end of autumn and make preparations for your stay." _Anything. I'll do anything._ "My home will be available to you at your leisure for as long as you require it." _Please don't take him from me._

Leon pushed off of the table and nodded. "Then it's decided."

He dismissed him with a wave and Roderich turned around on shaky legs, like a newborn fawn. As he pushed open the canvas, the Holy Roman Empire left him with one more dagger through his chest before he left.

"By the way, as you know, France has grown increasingly bold the last few months." Roderich glanced back to see his Empire idly shuffling documents, not even looking at him. "Tell Schwyz that he'll be stationed at Basel with Burgundy for the winter."

Roderich waited for anything else, and when there was nothing more he fled into the night.

**...xXx...**

Making his way back towards the central bonfire took a lot longer than when he'd left it. Roderich stumbled around in a daze; bumping into soldiers and dancers, repeatedly walking past the same line of tents more than twice, and he even stopped to lean up against a random food cart for a few moments.

Catch his breath. Hold his tears. Snare his heart.

Eventually he was able to return to where his companions were. Coming upon the edge of the clearing, he spotted the log with his friends on it. They were surrounded by a handful of barrels of honey wine, drinking heartily. Burgundy and Vash sat upon the log like before, Hesse and Saxony on the grass, and a few other duchies had come over to drink and visit, as well.

The petite woman of Bohemia sat on the other side of Burgundy, _Evicka,_ leaning against the ashen warrior, her dark locks tied back in a bun. Moravia, a small, flame-haired youth named _Ignác,_ rested up against her leg and sipped his drink quietly. The twin Lorraine's sat huddled next to Saxony—Upper and Lower, _Adalwulf_ and _Hrodwulf_—their black hair long and unbraided, red tunics rippling in the firelight as they chattered.

Roderich shifted from foot to foot, nervous as a foal in front of rapids.

_How am I supposed to tell him?_ he fretted. _Just walk up and say, 'Hey, Vash, sorry but we can no longer live together and you have to march off to war while I sit pretty in a palace'? God, please don't make me!_

He felt absolute wretched. He didn't want to think of it. Didn't want to think of anything. Not how he was a piece of land to be used, or how his fellow duchies were the same. He wanted to have one night where he was just a young man at a festival with his friends, calling them by their _names _like normal people do, and drink the rest of the night away.

Biting back his seed of sorrow to keep it from budding into a sapling in the pit of his stomach, Roderich stepped into the ring of firelight.

Hesse—_no, _Velten stood cracking open a fresh barrel of mead and noticed him approach first. "Aye, Roderich! Come join our little competition, won't you?"

"You don't have to if you don't want," Merle added gently, silver eyes rolling at the Hessian's enthusiasm.

Roderich did his best to hold his head up, even though he wanted to sink into the soil, and his long legs strode across the grass in no time. Soon, he was taking up his abandoned mug and seated himself beside Vash like before.

_Like always._

"What kind of competition?" he asked, feigning normalcy as he finished off the last mouthful of warm mead. He felt a green gaze on him and tilted his head slightly to send Vash a small smile, not quite looking at him.

Severin answered him. "He's got it up his arse that he can outdrink all of us." The snarky blond man gave the Hessian a sideways glare. "Which he _can't,_ but he refuses to admit it."

"Admit what?" Velten lilted, filling up his stein and reaching for the others' one by one. "Does anybody else hear that?" The man paused and lifted a hand up to his ear, listening carefully for a few seconds before levelling the Saxon with a look. "It sounds like a chicken squawking."

"Why don't you just—"

"Fellas, please," Merle interjected. "I refuse to drink with you if you can't keep your hands off each other for more than five minutes."

Velten laughed loudly and Severin pursed his lips, resolutely staying seated where he was.

The Bohemian, Evicka, piped up in agreement. "No fighting, or I'll nail you both in the same barrel." The redhead at her feet snickered.

The group quipped back and forth as everyone's mugs were filled to the brim. Velten joked to the younger-looking ones in the group about not being old enough to drink, but he ultimately goaded everyone into participating. Roderich was eager enough and did his best to ignore the looks his companion was sending him.

Vash kept hold of his refilled stein as he handed it over to him, seizing that shy violet gaze at last. "Is everything alright?" he asked with a whisper.

Roderich held onto his drink and brushed his index finger across the blond's own, ducking his head down and away from his beloved's gemstone stare. "Yes."

"Are you sure?" Vash urged, lowering his head to try and meet his gaze again. "Nothing urgent?"

"Nothing urgent," Roderich insisted. _Not tonight._

Vash stared at him a moment longer before nodding and straightening up. "Okay."

"If there's anyone you should trap in a barrel then it's those two," Severin grumbled. The Lorraine twins beside him elbowed and whispered to each other behind their hands.

The group drank well passed the witching hour of the night.

Everyone got heartily thrashed. Merle seemed to want to hold back, casually sipping on enough steins to sway, while the rest of them went through barrels like goats go through grass. Mug after mug, some sang songs and reveled with each other, everyone loosening up enough to stand the sight of one another for more than a few seconds. Even Severin and Velten leaned against one another and joined in with some vibrant tales of valor.

In the end, Roderich was the last one standing among them. Literally.

Despite his every want to get absolutely sloshed, the brunet hit a point where no matter how many drinks he had or how quickly he drank them, he was only able to achieve a heavy buzz. While his companions stumbled and tripped over each other and fell asleep in odd places, Roderich sat in ever growing misery.

He only wanted to forget. Who would have thought he'd have such a high tolerance?!

Velten sauntered off with Severin under his arm after waving a goodnight, laughing loudly about something unintelligible the Saxon sneered at him.

Roderich watched them go by, calling out a farewell, and then stared down into his empty stein with a frown. He sighed and set it aside, looking to Vash at his right. The blond finished off the rest of his drink and met his eye.

Without a word the two of them stood and left the bonfire. They had their arms around each other, Vash's on his waist and his own across the other's shoulders.

Roderich was thankful for the closeness, and the way that Vash was leaning against him made his mead-filled stomach twist.

The world around him wobbled slightly, the men they passed even more so. They had to walk around and step over dozens of drunken revelers on their way back to their tents. Eventually, they arrived outside their mostly isolated spot in the field.

Roderich hesitated outside of Vash's tent. His sleepy companion blinked a few times before he realized that they'd made it to their destination.

Vash squeezed the brunet's middle and looked up at him. The two of them stared at each other in front of the tent, the sounds of the festival muted. The distant fires had dimmed, leaving the meadow a dark grey against the black night.

Roderich felt the skin on his neck and cheeks grow hot under the close attention. He cleared his throat. "What is it?"

Vash stared at him another moment before pulling his arm away. Roderich felt as if he'd lost a limb. "Come on," the blond murmured, words rougher than usual. "You drank too much. Go sleep it off."

With a pat on his chest, Vash turned and ducked into his tent. The flap swung closed, and Roderich was left alone.

**...xXx…**

Roderich woke an unknown amount of time later. It was still dark out, the summer night stifling. His skin clung to the blanket and his mind was hazy.

He reached for the space beside him. His hand came up empty.

_Where . . .? Oh._

Thoughts and body sluggish, it took the youth a moment to remember that he was in his tent, and that Vash was in another. Roderich sat up with a groan, ignoring the sway in his head, and made to stand. Shuffling out of his tent, a light breeze cooled the sweat that clung to his shirtless chest and the mugginess was nonexistent in the open air.

The glen was quiet as he looked over the camp, seeing it in various states of disarray and rest. Tents and barrels were knocked over, people passed out in various places, snoring loudly, or the few souls left awake were wandering around, swaying and speaking softly to one another.

Roderich took a deep breath and stepped into the tent beside his.

A dark lump met his gaze. He swallowed the one in his throat. The brunet fumbled to tie the tent flap closed, his heartbeat as clumsy as his fingers. As he turned around and saw that there was enough room for him to lay down beside the sleeping figure on the blanket, his happy thoughts sang loudly in his head.

A little _too_ loudly. He winced.

Ignoring the ache in his chest, Roderich flopped down, eager to fall back asleep next to his beloved.

His arm found Vash's waist and his nose found a pillow of silken gold. Skin met skin as his chest pressed against the other's shirtless back, and despite the hot summer night he snuggled right up. Vash grumbled in his sleep and rolled over into his hold.

He knew the blond drank quite a bit, so he was quite surprised—_and incredibly happy_—that he held him back.

Sighing, Roderich let himself relax. He was becoming rather fond of his newly grown body, simply since it was long enough to surround Vash in his entirety. So what if he held on a little tighter than usual?

The shaking abated somewhat, and he fell asleep.

Or, he tried to.

Whether it was the muggy heat or the unnecessary blanket or the contact of their skin, Roderich couldn't get comfortable. It definitely wasn't due to the pit gnawing open and closed in his gut.

_Definitely not._

An amalgam of bestial maws snapped and bit at the inner lining of his stomach. Murky visions tormented him behind his eyelids, a drunken haze stifling his head like a miasma, and his heart raced like a spooked stallion.

Wolves howled in the trenches of his soul.

Roderich didn't know what sort of baffling rashness came over him, but suddenly he was pressing his lips to his beloved. Kissing freckled cheeks, a smooth brow, closed eyelids, nuzzling into the other's hot neck. Every press of lips made him buzz with unrefined pleasure, and for the first time that night he felt unburdened. _Free._

He was there. _Vash_ was there. With him, against him, not . . . _against_ him. There were no battle cries in the distance or the sounding of horns. No lurking housemaids or butlers. Just them.

_His Vash. _Present, there; _right beside him._

The one in his arms shifted and Roderich noticed a shudder run through the other after he pressed his lips to the blond's pulse, just beneath his jaw. The dark-haired youth didn't know if he preferred Vash to stay asleep or to have him wake up from the small touches. Either way, he was happy to be able to hold the other, to feel his heartbeat under his lips, the light breaths against his collarbone.

_I'm too lucky,_ Roderich thought as his lips lingered on Vash's skin. _Much too lucky to have you by my side. _His heart sank as the back of his throat tightened. _I don't want to lose you._

The blond moved then, his arms pushing against Roderich's chest, and Vash lifted his head to peek upwards under heavy eyelids.

However, at that moment Roderich had tilted his chin to allow him to smooch his companion's cheek, and the mixed movement caused their lips to brush together.

It was a foggy few breaths before they pulled apart, grass green eyes staring into blooming violet, and the sweet smell of mead mixed between them.

It was unknown if Roderich moved first or Vash, but their lips soon pressed together again. And again. They paused, then kissed once more. Their hearts beat in tandem as their eyes asked the questions their mouths were too busy to every time they pulled away for breath before fluttering closed when they crashed together again and again.

_More,_ Roderich's entire body screamed. _More, more, more._

The heat between them grew fast, faster than either were ready for. Vash slid his hands up the other's chest to hook his arms around the brunet's neck, fingertips leaving small trails of lightning behind. Roderich's own fingers traced across the muscles of Vash's back, his shoulders, brushing down his back until they hit a waistband and quickly retreated. The brunet thought his heart would surely leap from his chest right into Vash's ribcage.

_He can have the damned thing! _Roderich whimpered deep in his throat. _He already does._

His bleary mind wondered why kissing his friend on the lips felt so much more exciting than when he kissed his face. Why kissing him at all was so . . ._ satisfying._

Not like he'd ever kissed, _really kissed,_ someone before so he had nothing to compare it to. Let alone Vash, of all people. _Not like this._

Roderich gasped away, fighting against the frenzied quaking in his limbs that urged him to cling to the other. _Oh, God. Vash_— They were kissing. _Kissing!_ He was kissing _Vash, oh__—!_

Panic didn't nearly have enough time to build its nest within him as Vash dug his fingers through his hair and yanked the brunet forwards. Roderich squeaked from the shocking strength his friend used to pull them together, their lips colliding so hard it hurt.

Why was his body reacting like this? They broke apart long enough for Roderich to lean up and roll Vash onto his back before both of them returned to giving and taking as many kisses as they could get. Why didn't he pull away? Both gasped for breath as they clutched one another. Why didn't Vash?

Any semblance of nervousness coincidentally left him as a hot tongue slipped into his mouth, and Roderich was all done thinking.

The brunet followed his beloved's lead and pushed back with his tongue. Vash made a low sound as their tongues twisted, the two of them moving uncertainly with the thrum of their hearts; pure wanton instinct guiding them. That moan sent a shock down Roderich's spine and a certain part of him reacted to that noise more than most.

Well. _T__hat_ was a new sensation.

The blond rolled on top of him and pushed him to the blanket with clumsy insistence. _What was that about not claiming me?_ Roderich whined as Vash groaned, their blood trembling as they pressed together. _Don't you know that I'm already yours?_

The two kissed and touched and rolled around to kiss some more for who knew how long. It felt like hours—or had it only been minutes? Occasionally, Roderich would pull on golden locks, Vash would arch beneath him with more soft sounds, and he would eagerly eat them up. Vash's hands wandered over his shoulders and back, nails digging into him, an ache spreading everywhere he was touched and left untouched.

Everything was all so new and terrifying and_ lovely._

Unfortunately, the night's drunken revelry caught up to them. Eventually they slowed, their joint buzzing heads and heavy movements against one another exhausting them. Vash sighed over his neck, no longer able to hold his head up. Roderich laid on his side again and resolutely kept pressing small kisses to the blond's lips, over and over, until the heaviness of his eyelids bid him to stop.

They fell asleep in each others' arms.

**...xXx...**

Telling Vash the truth was as difficult as trying to spear a boar with a handful of mud.

It wasn't until a couple weeks later, once the two of them had returned to their home at Heathergrove, that Roderich had found the bravery to even bring it up. The looming dismay over his Empire's decision to separate him from his dearest companion weighed heavy in his bones. Thankfully, Vash hadn't pushed him for answers over his private conversation with the Holy Roman Empire, though he was never one to pry into nations' budding affairs.

The night he told Vash he was a bumbling mess. He'd nearly fainted.

Vash, to his credit, accepted the news in stride. The blond youth was mid-swing with his sword towards one of the dummies made out of an old wooden post and hay, his arc not hesitating in the slightest as he took in the report. He always seemed to be training lately.

Shredded hay drifted through the air as Vash wiped the sweat from his brow. He spun his blade once, twice, then swung it again with a grunt. It was a full set of attacks that Roderich waited with a held breath before the other said anything.

"Very well." Vash sheathed his blade and brushed back his wild bangs as he turned to him. "I'll begin packing for Basel."

That was the worst thing he could have said.

Roderich watched as the blond attempted to stuff some of the hay back into the dummy's torn sack of cloth. Vash continued idly speaking to him, as if their were discussing simple sword techniques and _not_ their separation for the foreseeable future. "At least I'm going to be stationed with Burgundy. They have a good head on their shoulders. A good arm, too."

_I have a good arm._ Roderich kicked at the dirt, his head down. _Sort of._

"And you'll be going to Vienna," Vash went on, unaware of his friend's sulking. "Get to spend some time in the capital. That'll be nice." _No it won't._ "And you'll be safe there so I won't have to worry," the blond added, his voice a tad softer than before.

Roderich came up behind him and wrapped his arms around the man's waist. He buried his face into the other's shoulder, knowing full well that he was acting like a child. But his companion's nonchalance about the whole thing really bothered him.

_Do you not care?_ he asked. _How will I know that you're safe? _he screamed. _When will I get to hold you again? _he cried.

Instead, he said, "But you won't be with me."

"That's fine, though, isn't it?" Vash patted his arms and attempted to turn around, but the brunet held him too tight. He huffed and pushed him away more forcefully this time, turning around to give him a confused look. "We have responsibilities, after all."

"Do you not remember?" Roderich whispered.

A blond eyebrow rose. "Remember what?"

The most shocking thing in that moment was how Vash didn't hear the sound of his chest caving in on itself.

They hadn't spoke about what had happened that night. They'd both woken up with thick hangovers and even thicker throats. Neither said a word to each other as they packed up their tents and bid their fellow duchies farewell by early afternoon. Most of them were hardly coherent, anyways, and hadn't noticed the tension between the pair.

Kolman turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as the young man had been almost entirely relied on for dismantling and packing their tents and provisions back onto their horses, hardly hungover compared to the rest of them. The kid had seemed happy enough to be of proper use and stayed relatively out of the way.

Roderich guessed Vash stayed quiet because his companion was timid about showing affection. And Roderich was absolutely and _entirely_ unable to even _think_ about the night before without instantaneously combusting on the spot. So he left it be until his beloved was ready to bring it up.

Days later, Vash never brought it up. So neither did he. Weeks passed.

At first, Roderich was confused. Had he dreamed up everything? Sure, he was drunk—_maybe?_—and that _could_ have happened, but he believed it had been real. There was no way he could have dreamt up all of the wonderfully new feelings that had burrowed their way under his skin and into the very marrow of his bones. And why would he dream of such a thing? Why after all this time? Did his new body, his new thoughts, have something to do with it?

Then he was hurt. Did Vash not like it? Not like . . . _him? _The very idea that that could be the truth made him want to laugh and cry. There was no way that was true, not after everything they'd been through together. Though thoughts like that were utterly ridiculous, they would still creep to the forefront of his mind during the darkest hours of the night.

Roderich could no longer look at his friend. He dropped his gaze.

"That, ah," the brunet began, his mouth smiling even as his heart broke. "That night at the festival I told you this was nothing urgent, ja? It's still the middle of summer, so there's time before autumn hits. No need to rush off."

"Mmm." He could feel Vash's eyes on him. "You're right, but I don't like leaving things until the last minute."

"I know, but I'd like to . . ." Roderich swallowed the lump in his throat. _To spend some time with you._ "Can you at least wait until tomorrow?"

Vash stepped towards him and clapped him on the shoulder. Roderich shrunk in on himself and averted his gaze to the hay dummy. "Okay," he said softly. "Is there anything else?"

"Nein."

"Are you sure?" the blond asked, his voice even quieter than before. A tone he used whenever he didn't believe him.

Roderich clenched his jaw. "Of course."

"Rod." Vash leaned to the side to try and catch his eye. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"Am I?"

"You've been like this since we got home. This assignment is nothing new. It's not like we haven't had to see to our duties separately before."

"This isn't the same." The brunet crossed arms, nearly ripping the fabric of his sleeves. "We've always been able to come back home to each other, wherever we were," Roderich continued, his voice growing louder and more severe as his thoughts spilled out on his tongue. He knew he was acting childish, but he couldn't quite reign in his distress now that it was slipping loose.

"And now we have to leave Heathergrove for good, with _you_ being sent off to the front and _me_ having to go stay in-in a _palace _of all places!" His eyes grew hot as Vash's hand tightened on his shoulder. "While you are out risking life and limb I have to sit and have tea with Leon, and _aristocrats_ who've never worked a day in their life!"

Green eyes widened. "Rod—"

_Dammit, stay quiet, you fool!_ But he couldn't. "They've never starved, or had to sleep outside in the snow, o-or worried themselves sick over whether or not their best friend was going to bleed out in their arms! A-And I have to go _bow_ and serve like a good duchy, all while being unable to see you until God knows when, and I can't stand that._ I want no part of i__t."_

"Roderich . . ."

"Nevermind! Nevermind!" the brunet finally snapped. "Just ignore me." He shrugged out from under the other's hand and marched off towards the manor, his footfalls heavy. "I'll leave you to your training."

Roderich sped away before his tears fell.

**...xXx...**

That night the two young men slept apart.

By the time Roderich had worked up the nerve to even approach their bedroom he'd already made up his mind.

Roderich was ashamed; not only for lashing out at Vash like he did, but for avoiding the other the entire rest of the day. He'd taken his horse and galloped nearly all the way to town, hiding in a patch of woods along the road. He'd spent the rest of the afternoon and evening sulking alone in an oak tree.

Turns out, even a fledgling nation could still act petulant and regretful. _Human._ Having all that time alone to think, with nothing but his stallion and a semi-distant herd of red-backed deer to keep him company, the torn youth was able to sort himself out and come to an ultimatum.

Roderich vowed to grow up.

He was sick of being useless, of being too weak on the battlefield and of tripping over his own anxieties during political discourse. The young man vowed to himself, to the oak tree, and to the stars that he would grow larger and more powerful until he was the one calling the shots. Until all his neighboring territories and even the Holy Roman Empire was beneath _him._ Until he didn't want for anything.

For his sake, he would become someone worthy of standing beside his golden knight.

It was well into the wee hours of the night when he returned to the manor, and the household was asleep.

Bamber seemed relieved at the gate to see him, muttering blessings about him returning safely. The stableman mentioned how the others had been looking for him around dinnertime, but Vash had told them not to bother. That he would be home later.

And there he was. Home.

_Not for much longer._

Roderich entered the estate like a ghost. He carried no candle with him, so he made his way through the manor with only the guiding moonlight through the windows and sheer familiarity. The old halls thankfully let him pass in peace, and no one else stirred awake at that hour. Swiftly and silently, he made it to the master bedroom.

Creeping across the floorboards, Roderich made it to his side of the bed. He grabbed only his pillow, not allowing himself to even look at his friend before he quickly retreated out of the room.

Helene would faint off her feet if she saw him making up the bed in one of their spare rooms. In the morning she nearly did just that when she caught him walking out of said room with rumpled clothes and a tired expression.

"Master Roderich," the housekeeper greeted, quick to tone down her surprise as she held a stack of fresh bedding in her arms. Her pale blue eyes looked him over as he yawned. "Out late last night, were ye?"

The umber-haired man nodded and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was about to head towards the master bedroom for a change of clothes when the woman caught him by the arm.

"There's not a, ah, _guest_ in there with ye, is there?" she asked, voice low and eyebrows high.

"No such thing," he said, unsure if Helene's face fell with relief or disappointment. He began to walk away, waving his hand at her insinuation. "Just felt like a change of scenery." She didn't reply and he carried on.

Roderich didn't encounter Vash in their shared room. His companion usually got up earlier than him, so he was more than likely out and about already.

As much as it pained him, the brunet began to pack his things—his meager amount of clothes, since he'd been outgrowing all of his old ones, and keepsakes barely filled out his satchel. Roderich wanted to rescind his inner promise, to make some sort of compromise with himself, but knew that if he didn't start now that he would never be able to become who he wanted to be.

Who he _needed_ to be.

Soft footsteps behind him perked his ears, but he didn't turn around as he rolled up one of his shirts.

"He's out lookin' for ye still," Helene said. Roderich glanced over to see that the older woman had a tight expression, her eyes crinkled and uneasy, and he paused. "He spent most of last night lookin', too," she went on. "So did we. I don't think the Young Master got much shut eye because of ye."

_Me, neither._ And he hadn't. He'd strangled his poor pillow almost to the point of tearing open and spilling feathers everywhere.

Roderich sighed and set his shirt aside, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I didn't mean to make everyone worry."

"O'course we worried!" Helene walked around the foot of the bed to stand in front of him, and he would see that even she had dark circles under her eyes. "Nearly gave ol' Tom palpitations. The way ye just disappeared made the girls think that a damn demon spirited ye away, or somethin'. And Kolman, deary thing, somehow thought it was 'is fault for not keepin' a closer eye on ye."

Roderich almost smiled at the thought of the others so in a tussle because of him. _Almost._ Instead, his heart only ached.

"So why then don't ye go 'n find Young Master Vash and drag 'im back for breakfast, hmm? Yer probably starvin'."

Helene waited for some kind of rebuttal. When none came, the old maid deflated with an exhale and moved to sit beside him on the bed, setting the fresh sheets aside.

"So ye had a fight, huh," she said after a short moment. "And ye stormed out."

Roderich ducked his head in admission, wondering when the woman suddenly started to seem more like a mother hen than an old nag. Not that he would, or _could,_ ever be familiar with the 'mother' part.

"We'll be leaving before winter." Roderich straightened himself to his newfound height and answered the woman's unspoken question. "Vash is headed to the Western front, and I'm heading back to Vienna." He tested whether or not he could keep his voice still and indifferent while he said as much, mildly alarmed that he could. "I suppose I didn't take the news as well as I could have."

"I see." Helene reached over and took his hand. She held it in both of hers and gave him a few pats, her aged voice softening. "That's to be expected, after all. Ye two are as close as flour on dough."

Roderich did smile at her comparison, relaxing a little at her given comfort. "I guess we are." Violet eyes lifted away from his boots to stare outside the window. The pink dawn had stretched yellow across the grass. "But all that has to change."

Helene lifted her arm up to wrap around his thin shoulders and squeezed, her voice steady as a stone, "Everyone must go through changes, Master Roderich. Changes we don' like or want, but the ones we all need to go through anyways. Ye two boys are as strong as _bears, _ye are," she stressed clearly, giving him a good shake. "Ye'll make it to where yer goin', ye will."

Roderich didn't know what to say to that and he lifted his gaze to meet tender blue.

She gave him another squeeze. "Don't ye worry now, we'll all see ye both through 'til the end."

**...xXx...**

Autumn came and went as swiftly as a cool wind, winter close on its heels.

Roderich and Vash made sure to help out with any and all work needing to be done around Heathergrove before the season was out. Any repairs, gathering of firewood, and hunting to add to the estate's food stores for the winter were done by the young men.

Most of the household had tried to protest, since it was their duty to ensure the upkeep of the manor, and Thomas even pointed out that they didn't have to bother themselves since they would no longer be staying there anyways. They all had been informed as such rather quickly after Vash discovered the news himself.

Everyone kept those thoughts to themselves after Helene openly thanked the young masters for their help, and encouraged them to work harder.

Vash never brought up their drunken night, even after they'd made up for their fight, so Roderich let the memory whither.

Missives were sent, supplies were gathered, hearts were steadied.

Roderich no longer had time for poetry and picnics. He spent most of his time reading letters in the morning and writing responses in the evening, and then in the afternoons he had Vash teach him all he could with a sword. By the time came for them to depart the brunet could finally hold his ground and block his companion's stunning blows.

The pride in luscious green eyes was enough for him to strengthen his conviction. Some day he would be strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Schwyz, and that would be the day the two of them would become unstoppable.

Goodbyes to the estate staff were more difficult than either had anticipated. Roderich found it all rather touching, the way these folks had attached themselves to them over the course of the year, and they'd indeed all gotten rather close.

Thomas had to comfort Bamber, the weepy man nearly squeezing the youths to death with his farewell hugs. The butler himself was very composed, as usual, but there was a gentle underside to his well-wishes. The maids all bid them to visit if they could, and Eckhart made sure Kolman bowed properly beside him, despite the boy's sniffling.

Then there were the unexpected parting gifts.

Thomas had a cobbler resole their boots for their long journeys and add extra linings of rabbit fur. The pairs of shoes were warmer and fit better than they had in years. The maids each gave them wool hats and scarves they'd knitted themselves, Anne giving Vash a dark brown pair and Gerlinde gave Roderich grey. Kolman handed them each warmer leather riding gloves and made sure they had enough saddle and leather polish to last them until next winter. Eckhart stashed a few luxuries away in their provisions, like butter tarts and soft cheese, and Bamber slipped them a couple bottles of whiskey for their bellies during the coldest nights.

Then there was the old housekeeper.

Helene stepped over to them across the courtyard, freshly powdered with early snowfall, with a wash of fabric over her arms. She handed them each a new coat, sewn thick and comfortable enough to brace the harsh winter chill, and new cloaks with mixed linings of rabbit and wolf fur.

"To keep ye both warm," she told them, making sure they at least put on the cloaks for now. "Durin' the snowy nights, hopefully."

"Since we won't be sharing a tent anymore?" Vash joked lightly.

Helene huffed a laugh and sniffed, clearing her throat as she brushed down the front of her overcoat. "Aye," she said, eyes blazing hotter than any fire. "Just for that."

The gifts were overwhelming, and Roderich could hardly swallow the lump in his throat as Vash offered their sincerest thanks for them both. The brunet managed to nod along fervently, and was able to muster up a heartfelt goodbye to the good folks that had taken care of him and Vash the past months. It had been a kind, comfortable, belly-filled year that neither of them would forget any time soon.

After mounting their horses and letting the others see them out the front gate, the two duchies left their human home behind for a final time.

Travelling down the path and through town went quicker than either had hoped, and soon they'd come to a stop at the main road that lead from East to West. Snowfall indicated that not a soul had attempted the path yet that day, and the stark black trees framed either way in an identical tunnel.

Roderich's eyes had been glued to his beloved nearly the entire trip out. Hell, through the past couple months he'd paid special attention to his only companion. Memorizing every freckle, every golden lock, every shade of green in those verdant irises. He had noticed that Vash also spent his time more closely with him, asking to join him at the table whenever he wrote or asking for the occasional ride around the meadow. He wondered how the blond was truly feeling about everything.

In the end, they indulged each other in every want, and Roderich spoke first.

"So this is goodbye, then," he said, making sure to keep his voice calm. He had to get in as much practice as he could before entering the Viennese court; _that, _and he didn't want his friend to fret even more over him.

The dark-haired youth wanted to show Vash that he could be capable on his own, even if he didn't care to be.

Vash grunted at his statement and maneuvered his horse closer until their legs were flush and they could directly see each others faces beneath their hats.

"I could go with you." Vash fiddled with his reins. "Make sure you get there before returning."

"I know the way."

"At least until the border, then."

Roderich reached out to him, gripping the other's shoulder tight. "I can make it, Vash," he affirmed gently. _"I will."_

Forest green eyes burrowed into him like saplings throw snowmelt, and Vash lifted his hand to clasp the brunet's shoulder. "I know you will."

They leaned together between their saddles, grasping cloaks and hair to press their foreheads close. The two of them spent a long time like that; breathing together, holding each other, silently making all the promises with their rushing heartbeats that their words could never say.

Roderich didn't know when they'd meet again. If it would be on the battlefield or not, or even on matching sides. What he _did _know was that he was going to work the skin off his bones to turn his place into a home.

One where they could always stay together.

Roderich exhaled a cloud between them and promised, "I'll come back to you."

Leathered fingers dug deep into his hazel hair as Vash at last seemed to break, letting out a small sound. Before Roderich could react, the blond lifted his other hand to yank down their scarves and pulled him closer. Lips met his own, too rough, too quick, _too perfect; _and Roderich wept to savor the bittersweet touch as his other half parted from him.

"Fly far, _Hasi,_ and you'll find me."

Vash let go of him, and let him go.

**.**

_**You've got the faith of a child,**_

_**Before the world gets in.**_

**...xXx...**

**_Obliquus_ \- Oblique, referring to slant rhymes**

_**Hasi**_** \- Little rabbit/bunny**

**_Poetria_ \- Poetry**

**_Herr_ \- Mister, in this case also used for "lord"**

**_Frau/Fraulein_ \- Mrs. and Miss**

**_Cultura_ \- Cultivation, referring to gardening**

**_Österreich_ \- Austria**

**_Österhase - _Easter bunny, a play on "****Öster" from Österreich, and more like "Eastern bunny" in this sense**

**_Mein Kaiser_ \- My Emperor**

**_Nein_ \- No**

**Title & quotes are lyrics from the song _"Some Kind of Love,"_ by The Killers.**

**There was a lot less stabbing in my original idea for this fic. You know how it goes, though. I apologize if any duchy/territory/state names are incorrect, this story takes place someplace between the years 1260-1300, but I kept it vague.**

**There's also quite the cast here! I basically got to take a lot of liberties here with the HRE bros. Saxony is such snarky fun, and I'm glad Hesse has a sense of humor, I made him a huge flirt. Didn't know that the Kingdom of Bohemia is the predecessor to the Czech Republic! So that's her, if you squint. Also kept Burgundy as androgynous as possible because it was a merger of two kingdoms beforehand so I thought it would be a neat little detail.**

**As for the house staff, I hope they played their part well in these impressionable young men's lives.**

**Thank you for reading!**


End file.
